


The Year Harry Adjusted

by Isscha



Series: Raising Harry [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Charlie Weasley Loves his Dragons, Gen, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Hogwarts First Year, No Bashing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paganism, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent, Severus Snape Adopts Harry Potter, Severus and Minerva Friendship, canon abused Neville, follows some canon timeline or events albeit extremely loosely at times, neglected Hermione Granger, something is wrong with Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-01-30 03:04:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 88,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21421147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isscha/pseuds/Isscha
Summary: Harry is excited to start his first year at Hogwarts as an official student and not merely tutored as a professor's child. However, is he prepared for all that school has to throw at him?  Between new and old friendships as well as all the unexpected and strange things that seem to only be happening to him, Harry's first year is shaping up to be anything but dull.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson & Harry Potter & Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape, Neville Longbottom & Harry Potter
Series: Raising Harry [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1239062
Comments: 140
Kudos: 800
Collections: An Uchiha's Hoard, Waiting for updates





	1. Prologue : The Cottage by the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! I intend to make updates once every other week. However, I will make no promises as real-life can and will always interfere with my best intentions. As for canon vs new plot, some events and the like will stay the same from canon, some things will be moved around, and some may not happen at all. 
> 
> < “Sentence is parseltongue.” > I didn’t like the bold in the first installment, but the underline hadn’t copied over and I had no time to manually change it so I used bold. For the rest of the series, however, I decided to change it. 
> 
> The main POV focus will be from Harry, though there will be clearly marked sections that contain other POV’s as well, and my lovely Gemma the Snake will feature more than she did in book 1 from here on out. Now, enjoy the prologue to Raising Harry Book 2: The Year Harry Adjusted.

~~*~*~~

31 July 1991

Sea Cottage

Isle of Arran

~~*~*~~

There was nothing overtly remarkable about the little cottage nestled between the cliffs by the sea. It was, in fact, quite an ordinary wizarding home; a white clapboard cottage with a dark slate shingle roof standing out starkly against dark forest looming across the inland horizon. 

No, what made the house extraordinary were those who dwelled inside. If one could see past the wards, they would see the form of a young boy with a snake wound through his wild-from-the-wind hair sitting cross-legged on the largest rock on the sandy beach just down the hill from the cottage. But there were no such watchers, and as such, no one was around to witness the boy shaking his fist at the sky in frustration save for his father observing with amusement over his mug from the living room of the little white cottage.

Today was a very important day for the boy. In fact, it was probably one of the most important days of his life up until this point, if you didn’t count the day he was adopted by his father. Like every birthday since he was four, he was given a riddle to solve. However, this year was different because he had been given the riddle as soon as he had entered the kitchen and shooed outside to meditate instead of receiving the riddle during the gift-giving part of the day. The child politely did not point out that he knew it was because Papa wasn’t finished making his birthday breakfast and ducked outside obediently. 

That was how one Harry Snape found himself perched on his favorite meditation rock early on his eleventh birthday. He splayed his fingers out over the rock, breathing in deep the crisp air whisking off the sea in the hope it would help to ground him. He loved the time just before dawn, when the air seemed so still nothing else was alive, until the first of the morning birds began their morning rituals.

A particularly loud caw from a sea bird on his left nearly unseated him and he shook himself a little to reorient himself. “You’re out here to think, Harry,” he reminded himself firmly. His nose scrunched in thought as this year’s riddle danced through his mind, disrupting the calm he was trying to maintain. “Four brothers...first runs, doesn’t weary…”

Gemma’s tongue tickled his nose as she snickered at him, head dangling over his forehead as she used the majority of her body to anchor herself in his loose hair as best she could. <“You are thinking too deeply about this.”> Harry felt part of her body lift off his head just as she hissed in irritation. <“And you should put your hair up. I am not a dragon and do not wish to take flight this day.”> 

He obliged with an amused smile at the image of his little red and blue striped garter as a tiny mini dragon swooping loops around him and wrapped the leather strap gently around both her and the wavy mass so she couldn’t be dislodged, containing his hair in a loose bun at the base of his neck. <“The riddle is  hard this year.”> He replied reproachfully, his brow wrinkling as he ran what he could remember through his mind once again while his fingers started absently playing with a fray in his sweater.

She sighed, as well as a snake could anyway, and slithered a bit forward in Harry’s hair so she could rotate and bend to look him directly in the face. <“Yes, but sometimes too much thought is less than helpful.”> She chided gently. <“Sometimes, you end up thinking  _ too _ hard and cannot distinguish a single runespore from the mass. I’ve seen you do it.”> Harry stuck his tongue out at her as she pariscoped back up to the top of his head and started to squirm about in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

He shivered at the feeling of her moving along his scalp. <“Are you done?”> He’s gotten a lot better at inserting voice inflection in his parseltongue and he thought he sounded suitably irritated at her constant squirming. His hair was going to be an absolute tangled mess if she didn’t stop.

<“For now,”> came the muffled reply, <“I am warm and comfortable.”>

< “Bully for you.” > At least he was also comfortable on his perch on the rock, if a bit chilled from the sea air. He returned to trying to solve the riddle. “Four brothers born together, the first runs and doesn’t weary, the second eats and is still hungry, the third drinks and is still thirsty, the fourth sings a...not good song.” Harry scowled at the gaps in his memory because that wasn’t quite right. There were words he was missing that he knew contained vital clues to solving the riddle and nothing frustrated him more than a lack of information.

The gentle ebb and flow of the waves acted as white noise and the soft breathing and weight of his beloved snake - seemingly asleep now, how dare she - helped him to focus, falling deeper into thought.  _ The first runs and doesn’t weary. Water runs, so to speak, and never stops _ . A slow grin spread widely at the never hesitation echoes of the motion. Water. So what could the other three brothers be? They would have to be something related to water in some way. He supposed the second eating and never being full could be a sponge, and drought could be drinking and still thirsty and a flood a bad song but that didn’t seem very likely. Sponges obviously weren’t created at the same time as water which meant they couldn’t be born together and the other two were something created on a daily around the world via weather patterns, not something ancient and never changing. 

He frowned, the elation fading a bit at the creeping self-doubt in his thinking process. Could he truly be right? Could the first one be something other than water? He shook his head a bit against the negative thoughts.  _ Papa says to not second guess yourself. Water must be the right answer, but not in how I’m connecting it to the clue. _ This required something more than just his thoughts, Harry needed to write connections down. 

The eleven-year-old leapt to his feet and off the rock, landing with a dull thud in the sand. He muttered an apology at the strangled hiss from Gemma as she was abruptly awoken from her nap before taking off at a sprint. The sand was shifty under his feet as he ran, cursing when he nearly slipped in the loose soil. He slowed until he hit the solid dirt, finally able to pick up speed. He nearly smacked into the front door as he yanked it open and flew through the kitchen. He ignored his father warning him to walk and darted up the stairs into his bedroom and over to the desk, yanking out his parchment and quill before taking the stairs down two at a time back into the kitchen, chest heaving from exertion. 

“Papa, can you give me the riddle again so I know I have it right?” He asked breathlessly, ignoring both the disapproving look the man was shooting him and the scolding hisses from his snake about a little warning next time, his head stinging a little from where her coils were gripping extra hard on his hair.

Papa shook his head no, and Harry frowned at the dismissal. “Write it out first, and then I will correct any mistakes.” He relaxed his shoulders nearly in a slump before straightening back up. He supposed that was fair. After all, once he was in school, he would have to remember these things on his own. He quickly scribbled out what he could remember, taking care to ignore the words Gemma was giving him that were absolutely not part of the riddle and passed it back over to him. Papa’s nod as he read it was a little absent. “You got the gist of it correct. I’ll give you the exact phrasing as it is part of helping you figure out the answer and it wouldn’t be very sporting to hinder your quest for the truth.” The scratching of the quill filled the air and Harry had to fight the urge to squirm or fidget impatiently. He was well aware of both Papa and Uncle Lucius’ insistence that he demonstrate patience at all times.

As soon as the parchment was back in his hand, Harry looked down to read out loud. “‘There are four brothers in this world that were all born together. The first runs and never wearies. The second eats and is never full. The third drinks and is always thirsty. The fourth sings a song that is never good.’ Thanks, Papa. Is it okay if I take my stuff back outside?” He has always thought better when unconfined in a building, sitting out in the world. 

He watched as his father opened the kitchen door to stick his head outside, most likely only to verify what Harry called the Weather Detector. Papa never seemed to be wrong about what was happening, or going to be happening soon, outside.

< “He’s going to say no.” > Gemma said snidely, her tail poking rhythmically into Harry’s ear and he flipped his hand around it to dislodge her.

< “Cut that out!” > The reply came out hissed through gritted teeth while giving her his best and darkest glare. < “I hate it when you do that!” >

It had absolutely no effect on the small reptile. She snickered at him again, giving the tip of her tail one last wiggle before finally withdrawing it completely, leaving it to swing back and forth slowly and methodically against his shoulder. < “It’s called payback, Harry.” >

To Harry’s irritation, Gemma was right about Papa’s verdict. “I’d rather you didn’t. It looks like a storm is now coming our way, and you know how very quickly it can go badly.” Harry shivered at the memory of that awful day the wave had nearly dragged him out to sea when he was 8. Papa continued as he made his way to Harry and touched his shoulder with his hand as he passed to return to the stove. “And Remus will arrive after breakfast to venture to Rue with us for your wand. I believe he wanted to speak with you about this coming year.”

Uncle Remus probably just wanted to remind Harry he would have to call him Professor this next year, which he already knew. He’d even been practicing while looking at various pictures of both him and his father. He couldn’t slip up on either front, it would be imperative he remember to show his father and godfather the proper respect they deserved as professors.

He pouted but nodded wearily. “Yeah, I s’pose.” He muttered and then scrunched his face at the disapproving look he was being shot. “I mean, yessir.” He smiled a little at the huff of laughter that escaped the stern face. “Do I have time to go upstairs and work on the riddle there, or will it need to wait now?” He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait. He wanted to have as much time to work on it as possible because he knew he would need to know the answer by the ceremony tonight.

Severus looked at the stove and then nodded. “Yes, I suppose.” He echoed his son’s words which made Harry scowl at him.  _ Hypocrite. _ “Be down in ten minutes. Find your robes while you are at it.” Harry didn’t respond save for a nod as he stepped out of the kitchen and took the steps by two back to the attic. 

< “Do you want to sit with me, or in your terrarium?” > He asked Gemma as he walked through his bedroom door, kicking it shut behind him. Her tail waved back and forth absently as she listened. < “We have too many rituals to go through and Father said you need to remain here today.” >

< “I will sit on my rock in the terrarium.” > Gemma yawned and used her tail to point in the direction of the rough rock that sat on his desk in perpetual sunlight. < “I will content myself to sleep while you are away today.” > She slid down his arm when he dipped it into the enclosure and over the scratchy surface, draping herself over her favorite nooks to maximize sun exposure. 

With a fond smile at his beloved companion, he settled quickly at his desk to list out the first of his clues at the very top of his parchment. _1\. Water runs and never wearies, like the ocean or a river._ The way water was in constant motion fit the first clue perfectly, and he was adamant that the answer was correct. He stared down at the parchment and his forehead creased as he thought over the next three clues. Creating a new list, he inserted ‘water’ into the next clue, hoping it would trigger some more ideas. _2._ _Water has three brothers. _

Tapping his quill against his chin, he tried another phrasing.  _ Four brothers are in this world and one is water _ . A bit better, perhaps. The answer couldn’t be strictly muggle, Papa didn’t give him muggle riddles on his birthday. And Harry was well aware of the importance of his eleventh birthday when it came to the old magics. Did that mean the answers were all going to be more natural-based? His eyebrows knit together as he pondered the possibility. It made sense, once he thought about it, and if he was wrong, he would simply try again.  _ The four brothers are in nature. _

Four brothers in this world and the first was water. He moved on to the next line,  _ all born together _ and nodded decisively. He was certain now that the four brothers were nature-based and wondered what would be considered the brothers of water. As his eyes scanned around, almost for a clue, he nearly screamed when he caught sight of something he had yet to find time to read. It was a thick tome on elemental magic and was still perched on the desk Uncle Remus had given him last year for his birthday.

What he had read of it so far was that there were four basic elements, and one of them was water. The four elements could easily be translated as being like four brothers. He quickly edited the second bullet point to read:  _ Four brothers are in nature. There are four basic natural elements: water, air, fire, earth. _ He leaned back to look at his writing while the ink dried. If he was correct, all there was left to do was assign the elements to the clue. Easy, right?

“What eats and is never full?” He muttered under his breath, his foot starting to jiggle as he read the riddle again. “Come on, Harry. If it’s basic elemental, and we already have used water, that leaves either air, fire, or earth. Air blows, but it doesn’t do anything I’d think of as eating.” He slowly reasoned through the other two possibilities. “Earthquakes and landslides consume, but they stop after a short time. But fire…” He nodded to himself as he grew more convinced he was on the right track in solving the riddle. “Fire consumes, and doesn’t stop without help.” He scribbled in the word quickly to complete the entry to his list of answers.  _ 2\. Fire eats and is never full, it just burns and consumes until it is put out. _

Using the second element left only air and earth to pair to a clue, which should be easy now that there are only two options left. He read the next line. _The third drinks and is never thirsty_. “Well, that’s obviously earth.” He muttered, immediately thinking of the garden during the summer and how the dry dirt seemed to soak in the water like a sponge until it pooled. Air did nothing of the sort unless you counted how clouds were formed. He wrote carefully. _3._ _Earth drinks and is never thirsty, like the dirt in the summertime._

He grinned triumphantly as all the answers fell satisfactorily into place. “And that leaves just one left.” He read the line again and thought of hurricanes, which worked with water to destroy coastal cities and islands, he thought of tornadoes ripping through parts of the southwestern part of the colonies, of violent wind storms that ripped vegetation off their stalks. He scribbled out the final answer to the riddle.  _ 4\. Air sings a song that is never good, like tornados and windstorms. _

Shaking himself out of his daydreaming, he gently put away his quill and ink while looking over his scrawled little notes and scratched out phrases and narrowed his eyes at the pile.  _ Papa will probably like to see all this.  _ With a little sigh, he quickly gathered up his notes and raced down the stairs back into the kitchen. He thrust the parchment into the large hands and the man scanned the paper quickly, a pleased little grin coloring his face as he read through each bullet point. Harry couldn't help his impatient fidgeting this time. He could smell the sticky sweetness of whatever baked fruit dish Papa had made and it made his stomach rumble uncomfortably. Circe, he was hungry. If he was wrong, he would work on it again later after Rue.

His worries were for naught. “Correct,” Papa said softly, the pleased smile tearing through the anxiety that he had reasoned incorrectly. “And very well thought through, Harry. I appreciate the ability to see your thought process written out.” Harry nearly snorted in amusement because this was the first year he  _ needed _ to write out any of his thought process for solving the riddle. It had been a doozy this year. He accepted the returned parchment carefully, unable to keep his beaming smile from spreading at the pride he heard in Papa’s voice. Then Papa held out a small box with a tiny, warm smile of his own. “Before the day continues, I have a gift for you.”

There was an air of solemnity as Harry accepted the proffered box. He turned it over in his hands, examining the intricate designs burned into the wood with interest. There didn’t seem to be any sort of a picture or landscape or anything in the design, just nonsensical patterns, but Harry loved it nonetheless. When he untied the thin black velvet ribbon, the box sprang open to reveal two ancient rings nestled in a soft bed of forest green velvet. Harry touched the rings reverently, jumping a little when they seemed to hum in recognition of his magic. He looked up at his father expectantly, knowing an explanation was going to be coming soon.

Papa, however, simply gave him a nod while flicking his eyes down to the two rings, seeming to indicate to Harry that he was to pick them up out of the fabric-lined box. The first ring that he touched was a delicate band with intricately woven strands of silver intertwined with gold and as soon as it was pinched between two fingers, Papa reached over and extended his right ring finger. “The House of Potter will watch over you through your school years as you make the journey from child to man.” He intoned as he guided the ancient band onto Harry’s small finger. “May you never have need of the protections that this ring will provide. Itaque beneficia esse.”

Harry swallowed hard at the wash of magic that crept over his skin, leaving behind a feeling akin to ants crawling all over as the band shrank to fit him perfectly before fading into the skin. He opened his mouth to ask what was happening, but Papa shushed him quietly with a long finger before using the same to gesture at the box. Harry snapped his mouth shut and obediently retrieved the second ring, one of silver interlaid with onyx and bloodstone gems barely larger than grains of rice.

Papa then repeated the blessing with only a minor change as he nudged the second ancient band on the same finger as the previous. “The House of Prince will watch over you through your school years as you make the journey from child to man. May you never have need of the protections that this ring will provide. Itaque beneficia esse.” The same rush of magic had him gasping and he swallowed around the emotional knot in his throat as the safety of the protection magics warmed him. 

“So, what exactly are they? He asked when he finally found his voice, thick and heavy from the new magics enveloping him as the last incantation faded. “Other than rings that give me extra protection.”

The explanation came immediately as if Papa had been expecting Harry to ask, though more likely he already had the explanation ready for once the rings were in place. “They are Heir rings, dated from back when the Sacred 28 were the only wizard families around. There are special enchantments embedded in the very metal of the rings and are designed to protect the heir from most harmful spells, enchantments, and poisons that they could encounter as they enter their puberty years. The rings are tied into the heir’s magic, so while you could have worn the rings earlier to display your family names, the protections wouldn’t activate until your eleventh birthday, making gifting the heir rings today customary.” 

“And I have two,” Harry stated matter-of-factly, looking back down at his hand that housed both the Potter and Prince heir protections after his father nodded again. “Is there any bonus to having both?” It wouldn’t make much sense otherwise, he supposed, to have more than one if the protections were identical.

“Yes. They are yours, both by birthright as well as through adoption. The Potter ring protections lean more towards accidents via potions.” As one would expect as the Potters were a long line of famous potioneers and it would almost be expected of the heir to go the same path as their ancestors. He wasn’t sure how the Potter potion abilities skipped James, but Harry was thankful he himself had inherited them. He couldn't imagine his life without potions.

He was far more cautious about asking the second question because Papa was not open at all about his own family save for that they were worse than Petunia and Vernon. “What about the Prince ring?” He was almost afraid of the answer. The Princes had been notorious dark art users and Papa absolutely hated that he had fallen down the same paths his ancestors had and had been making amends ever since. 

Thankfully, Papa’s answer was brusque and to the point. “It will give you as close to protection from the dark arts as can be provided.” Papa’s voice was strangely strangled as if fighting off strong emotion and Harry supposed he could understand why. He also suspected that Draco’s heir ring held much of the same protections, but he had never asked. Maybe he would later today. Papa’s eyes grew stern when Harry gave no response and he realized belatedly that maybe he should have nodded or something to show he had heard his father’s explanation. “I ask that you not think yourself invincible. It will not protect against the unforgivables, and the protections lie mostly in auto casting hexes and other such spells to incapacitate the attacker, not deflect or render a spell useless.”

Harry had to fight back his offense. He definitely was not going to go around Hogwarts picking fights like a Gryffindor, regardless of a couple of new protection rings thank you  _ very  _ much. He turned eleven today, not into an imbecile. “Yes, Father.” He said shortly. He rarely used the proper term, typically saving it for when around purebloods or in times when he was holding onto his temper and unwilling to say something hurtful. He never wanted a repeat of when he was younger, that horrible day when Papa had forbidden him from flying and he had screamed the most hurtful barbs he could muster. His papa deserved his respect and Harry would give it. 

When Papa would not stop staring at him with misty eyes, Harry realized that the emotion he was holding back was actually more to do with Harry himself. It made sense, he supposed. After all, while Harry was excited for his magical education to begin, he wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of living in a dormitory with other boys sharing his space. He knew he wouldn’t have his privacy, not truly, not the way he was used to. He wasn’t ready to give up his day-to-day life here at Sea Cottage. And if  _ he _ wasn’t ready despite all his excitement to start Hogwarts, Papa absolutely was not. Still, the raw emotion from his father was not a common sight to see.

As it was Harry’s eleventh birthday, it was the day he would be receiving his first full power wand and complete the first of three rituals that would guide him along the path to adulthood. It was all he had been thinking about since Draco’s ceremony last month and he knew Papa had been dwelling on it as well. All the hikes this past year’s weekends and summer were all across paths tread since his toddlerhood, and there was a definite increase in the time spent bent over a potion with him. Everything pointed to Papa hating that he was growing up and Harry had indulged every venture, every invitation to brew, because he wanted to hold onto every single moment with his father before their lives grew busier.

“Now.” Harry looked back at his father expectantly with the return of the no-nonsense voice. “You still have two minutes. Use them to dress for the day and by the time you are done, breakfast will be ready to serve.” None of the vulnerability was left, and Harry nearly snorted out his amusement at the change but headed up to his room obediently despite how hungry he was for breakfast already.

He needed to find his new birthday robes from Auntie Cissa so he could eat before Uncle Remus arrived. He refused to be late for something as important as his wand ceremony nor would he wear anything but the elegant robes crafted specifically for today. The birthday boy was a whirlwind looking for the robes, carefully pulling through every piece of furniture in his room that held clothing to find the unusual fabric in a color he’s never owned before. 

Normally, he tended towards the same dark colors that his father preferred, however, Narcissa had convinced Harry to try something other than black or grey or blue for once and he was very happy he had agreed. His robes were green of two shades, pale for the sleeves and down the middle of his robes. The rest of the robes were a deep green that matched his eyes while the tight undershirt and trouser pants were a wonderful charcoal grey that he just loved. Interwoven through the fabric and lining the edges of the robes were delicate gold patterns that shone when caught just so in the sun. He felt so grown up when trying the robes on the other week to ensure they fit and would stand to wear nothing else today.

He nearly screamed out his frustration when rooting through his wardrobe and the pegs by his bedroom door turned up nothing. “Papa?” He decided to yell down the stairs instead of tearing the rest of his room apart. “Do  _ you _ have my robes?” When he heard an affirmative telling him to look behind the man’s bedroom door, he held back his annoyed sigh at the wasted effort looking in his room and darted back down the stairs to retrieve his magically pressed robes from his father's room. “Thank you.” He called politely as he passed the kitchen entryway where he could hear the click of the unique, were-collected-from-around-the-world, break-them-and-I-will-eviscerate-you handmade pottery plates Papa deemed him old enough to use at the beginning of the summer. The robes were just where Papa had said they would be and he smiled at them, eyes gleaming in anticipation just before he pulled them off the hook. 

Yes, the cottage by the sea was rather plain and simple but for Harry, it was home and he wanted to live nowhere else. The love he held for the cottage lay for him with its gardens and orchards and secret glens of wondrous rare plants and trees, for the lessons Papa had taught him over the years, for all the time spent with Papa and Remus and his friends, for the childhood he knew he would never have had had he lived anywhere else, the love he felt and how safe his Papa had always made him feel. 

_ Today is going to be perfect _ , he thought to himself as he took the stairs two at a time back up to his room, stomach rumbling hungrily in anticipation of his special birthday breakfast.  _ I can just feel it. _


	2. Chapter 1:  A Very Special Birthday

Chapter 1

A Very Special Birthday

~~*~*~~

31 July 1991

Sea Cottage

Isle of Arran

~~*~*~~

Harry had long ago realized that adults took forever to get ready, especially if those adults were Papa and Uncle Moony while conversing. Not even Auntie Cissa, Tia Alessa, or Tante Rosie took this long to get ready most outings and all three of them had long hair they would put up in intricate hairstyles and wore fancy, complicated robes every day! He was already dressed in his new green and grey robes with his hair neatly tied back and sat on the little bench by the door impatiently waiting. 

He could hear the two men conversing quietly and wished they would move a little faster. _ Do their mouths moving mean their feet can’t? _ He glared at the entryway that led to the living room as if the look alone would summon those he was thinking about. _ Come on! _ They were going to be late for their appointment, which would make the birthday ritual run late and then he and Draco would have no time to play at all today!

A tapping at the window over their round dining table had him leaping to his feet and rushing over to let the letter laden owl inside. “Please be my letter please be my letter…” He chanted under his breath as he handed over a bit of leftover toast to the bird in exchange for the wax-sealed parchment. He scarcely heard the owl hoot its appreciation as he scanned the address of the letter eagerly, whooping as he read just what he was hoping to see.

Mr. H. Snape

Attic Room

Sea Cottage

Isle of Arran

_ Finally! _ His hands shook a little finally seeing his name on the parchment in elegant swirls and loops. The living room was oddly silent now so he took a chance at getting their attention. “Papa, Uncle Remus!” He called out, hoping it would hurry the men along. “Come and look!” Harry held up the letter from the owl with a wry grin when they finally walked through the kitchen opening, adjusting coat collars as they passed through. “The Headmaster finally fixed my name.”

The first few letters had all been simply sent back by Harry after he scrawled a polite ‘I am afraid no one lives here by that name. Perhaps if you addressed the letter to H. Snape, it would reach its intended recipient’ on each one. He was very proud of the phrasing. He hadn’t needed any help composing it and only had shown Papa after he had written it so he could tell Harry if he used all the words correctly. However, after yet another incorrect letter last week, Harry had gotten a bit more...stern.

_ “I noticed Ilvermony in America had no issue with my name when sending my invite. Neither did Durmstrang or Beauboton. Perhaps one of those schools could use a new potions professor as I am certain my father will follow should I chose to attend elsewhere.” _ It had been a bluff because Harry knew how attached Papa was to his classroom and the potions program he and Professor Slughorn had built from the ground up but it apparently had been a bluff that succeeded as he held the proof in his hands.  
  


Harry waved the page at his father, who took it with a small smile. “I’m going to Hogwarts!” He said gleeful his bluff had actually succeeded.

A low chuckle rumbled from Papa and Harry kicked at the door frame with a little wrinkle in his nose. “Harry, you already go to Hogwarts. Almost daily, in fact.” He replied dryly, scanning the list of materials with slightly narrowed eyes.

Harry pushed aside his annoyance at the sudden silence from his Papa as he read and shifted impatiently as his father finished going over the parchments. “Do we have to go to Diagon for any of this or can we buy my supplies today?” He wasn’t surprised by the answer, nor by how annoyed Papa sounded by the inconvenience.

“Unfortunately, yes, at least for some of it. Your school books, for instance, will be at the Diagon Alley branch of Flourish and Blotts as the local branches only have that particular country’s school of magic’s required texts.” His father replied simply, and handed the papers back to Harry. “I’ve already made the arrangements to meet with your friends later in August, do not worry. The rest we can fetch in Rue sometime during our visit today. And if you behave, perhaps we’ll make a stop at Philippe’s.”

Harry loved going to the ancient bookstore. The proprietor, Monsieur Philippe, always had very interesting books ranging from the perfectly legal to the ones the English Ministry would frown upon. The man always pulled Harry into an interesting conversation and usually saw fit to gift Harry with a book upon departure. He accepted the parchment containing the list of supplies back from Papa and scanned it once again. The plain black robes, hat, cloak, and gloves were all not a surprise as Harry had seen Hogwarts students for years now. Neither were any of the books or other supplies any sort of oddity. No, what stood out to Harry was the admonition that first years absolutely were not allowed their own broomstick. He had known that, of course, but he hadn’t realized it was that dire of a warning.

“Why…why is it that important that first years not have a broom?” Harry frowned deeply over the last instruction on the list and Remus laughed loudly, startling Harry. “Uncle Moony, it isn’t funny.” The werewolf had been standing there so quietly Harry had forgotten he was there!

“Oh, you’ll change your tune soon enough about that,” Remus said promisingly, a grin still widely spread across his face. “It’s a rather hilarious story, from my viewpoint anyway. I was on the ground the entire time watching with the rest of our year.”

A huge smirk spread across his papa’s face and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Any story that drew that sort of smile, especially when the story came from Uncle Remus, usually meant something horrible happened to either Sirius Black - though those stories were few and far between and always shared with a tinge of bitterness - James Potter, or Peter Pettigrew. “Does James embarrass himself badly in this story?”

Remus snickered, deep and low and greatly amused. “Oh, yes spectacularly. It was our first flying lesson, and at the time, first years were encouraged to bring a broom if they owned one. James had bullied his father into buying him the best racing broom on the market just before school, and hadn’t had an opportunity to test it out before first.”

Harry started to giggle, an image clear in his mind of a young boy who looked like him only with shorter hair than him so the wild curls bounced around his head, completely out of control on a broom far faster than any he had flown before. It made him think of Draco. “I think I can see where this is going.” 

“You’re too smart not to see where this is going,” Severus muttered with a grin. He put a hand in the middle of Harry’s back and gently urged him towards the door. “It is a tale that can be regaled on our journey up the hill. Our schedule for the day is too packed to afford any delay and Ms. Young is waiting for us.”

~~*~*~~

Bois Cosmique

Rue Claudel

~~*~*~~

The bell chimed softly twice, first as the trio entered the shop and second when the door closed behind them. Harry had only been inside the wand shop once before, the day when Papa had come to the shop in person to sign the paperwork for the wand wood deals they had struck. Nothing had changed from what he could remember. The front of the shop was rather open and cozy, complete with plush chairs for any waiting for their turn with the wandmaker. Behind the counter stood a display of sample wands, none of them magically charged as none were ever to be destined for a user for one very important reason.

What set Camilla Young’s wand shop apart from the others in the wizarding world such as Olivanders was that her wands were completely customized, beginning with a ritual to attune the child to the magic of the various boxes containing parts of the wand and ending with a closing ritual to attune the child to the wand. Her wands, while available for all witches and wizards, were intended for those who still practiced the old ways. As such, the rituals were ancient and designed to ensure that the core and the wood would harmonize perfectly and that the child would be able to recognize their wand’s particular brush of magic against all other distractions. Every part of the wand would be one hundred percent compatible with the child’s magic, as it should be.

Harry kept his hands clasped tightly behind his back as he eyed the shelves containing the different gateway ritual wand embellishments. As his eyes drifted over the wands in the various stages of a wizard’s development, a rush of emotion flooded through him and filled him with an intense longing to be _ older _, to already have his wand and the markings of growth and respect. Different embellishments would be added at different times throughout Harry’s life that would signify the path through life he has chosen. For this year, the handle of his wand would begin with a gem clear like glass attached to the end of the handle, but the color would change depending on what House he would be sorted and would fade to onyx upon graduation.

His admiration of a particularly intricately swirled brass overlay on a mahogany wand was torn away when movement at the doorway to the backroom caught his eye. The young wandmaker wore simple dark blue robes and had her long black hair tied back, displaying the streak of premature grey in the front almost proudly as she smiled down at him.

“Is it that time already?” Madam Young spoke softly as she moved to lean against the counter. “I still remember seeing you for the first time, way back when you were just a wee little mite.” He was genuinely surprised she had remembered him at all. It had only been the once, after all.

“Yes, Madam.” He answered with a respectful head bow to the wand master. “I am eleven today.” His eyes wanted to wander, to look for the boxes of cores, handles, and shafts, but he knew he needed to stay focused and pay attention. This moment was far too important to ruin through carelessness. 

“Today?” The smile she was giving Harry turned warm but her eyes flashed with amusement when looking at his Papa. “I can see you didn’t waste a moment, Severus.”

“As you well knew, seeing as I set this appointment up last week.” He replied shortly, making her laugh even more pronounced. Everyone always seemed to be very amused by Papa’s dour countenance but Harry knew it was all just what Pansy called his ‘resting bitch face’. At home, Papa was nothing but smiles and laughter and while sometimes Harry wished for others to see what he did all the time, he loved that there was a part of them that would belong to only them, even when the world finally learned just who Harry Snape truly was.

“I am only teasing, Severus.” The wandmaker’s tone was warm as she gave Papa’s shoulder a soft pat with a long-fingered hand before turning to him with an unnervingly unblinking gaze. “Now, Harry, may I have your wand hand, please?”

He obliged without hesitation and she slid rough fingers over his right hand almost absently. He had to suppress the shivering the skin-crawling sensation was causing. She was silent and so he remained as well until she spoke again. It didn’t take long for her to start humming and giving little happy exclamations. “Ah, Harry! Your aura is quite beautiful, you know. Your colors blend and swirl together in a wonderful marbled pattern.”

Her eyes were almost glowing as she surveyed him and he felt encouraged by her wistful words. “What are my colors, Madam?” He asked reverently, unwilling to break the sort of hushed atmosphere that surrounded them.

One hand left him to stroke gently at the hair that had escaped its bindings. “The primary is a wonderfully deep indigo. It almost looks like clouds with how it swoops and dips around you.” Here her hand moved through the air gently and loosely in circles and Harry could feel the journey it was making through what he could not see himself. “In it is swirled with some bright green, very pale yellow, with some lovely earthy reds and tans. Do you garden, Harry?”

Her voice was nearly hypnotic, compelling Harry to answer quietly and without hesitation. “Yes, Madam. I enjoy it a lot.” He replied softly.

“That is what your colors tell me.” Her face bloomed with warmth as she peered at him, still holding his hand gently in one of hers while the one touching his hair drifted down to stroke at his cheek just briefly before falling away. “Your greens and browns share just how much you love being outside in nature. You are open to growth, young Harry, and are willing to change to achieve balance. This is a wonderful trait. I wonder if that will be the primary choosing factor in your wand wood.”

The other hand fell from his and he felt his senses come back to him slowly. “What about indigo and yellow?”

“Pale yellow, young one.” She corrected immediately, quietly. “There is an important distinction between the shades of yellow and their meanings. Your pale yellow tells me you are optimistic, hopeful of the future, and a rather positive person overall.”

“It’s almost sickening just how true that is,” Papa muttered from behind him and Harry whipped his head around to fix a scowl at him. His _ occasional _ cheerfulness was _ not _ sickening thank you very much. All he received in return was an arched brow and a snort of amusement. Uncle Remus was snickering, too, and he also was unaffected by Harry glaring at him next.

“And my indigo?” He repeated after turning his attention back to the wandmaker. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you are deeply intuitive and sensitive to others, Harry, and have strong instincts as well. Would you say this to be correct?” She turned away after he nodded his affirmative and pulled a simple ebony box off the shelf, mumbling what seemed to be a blessing of some kind over the ancient wood as she placed it onto the counter. “While I think I have a feeling as to what wood you will be drawn to, I shall simply allow you to peruse to your heart's content.”

Harry nearly gaped at her but remembered his manners just in time. What did she mean, peruse? Like, rifle through with his hands and touch all the wand shafts without care? Apparently, yes that was exactly what she meant for him to do. Honestly, he had been expecting some sort of fancy ritual to attune him to a particular piece of wood but he liked the idea of touching all the sticks to find the one for him.

The lid made an ear-piercing scraping sound as he gingerly removed it to reveal the loose cylinders of wood inside. The various rods were raw, unpolished, and very rough looking and he realized that when she said her wands were custom made, she truly meant custom.

The heady aroma of the cut wood made him smile, instantly transported to the hikes through the forest, the days spent camping with Uncle Moony in his woods or on their summer holiday to the states. He ran his fingers, relishing the slide of the rolls of wood and breathed deeply again. He closed his eyes and allowed his magic to dance in his fingertips. He wanted to find the true wand for him, not one he wanted based on the color or the wood type he _ hoped _ to get.

It was when his fingers brushed near the bottom of the box that he felt something different. His magic seemed static-y, jumpier than usual, and he eagerly slipped his fingers around the wood his magic was attracted to, gripping it tightly as to not lose it back in the mess. He opened his eyes to see a shaft of dark wood with delicate light strands weaving through the grains. 

“Black walnut, not at all unexpected.” She said aloud what Harry had questioned mentally and his hand shook a little as he held the beginnings of his wand. _ His _ . “Less common than it’s brother, the standard walnut, but this only confirms what I said before: you have _ excellent _ instincts, Mr. Snape. It would do you well to hone those instincts.”

At the dip in her tone from joviality into seriousness, he suddenly and deeply regretted his lack of foresight to research wand wood and core meanings and vowed to look it all up just as soon as he got a chance. He looked up quickly when a hand fell lightly onto his shoulder to see his father standing directly next to him now. His chest warmed at the proud look radiating from Papa’s eyes and turned his attention back to the wandmaker who was repacking the box back onto the shelf. 

“The core next, young Mr. Snape.” Madam Young called out over her shoulder cheerfully, long robes swishing softly as she vanished into the back room, presumably to retrieve said materials. He didn’t have long to wait before she returned, this time with a magically balanced stack of small boxes floating precariously in front of her. He had to hold himself back from jumping forward to help her, years living with his father making him unaccustomed to watching others work for him. He sternly reminded himself that this was her job and that she had done this exact task thousands of times before and had no need of his help, no matter how unbalanced the pile appeared.

He was proven correct when a small flick of her wand had them almost dancing their way to the counter, organizing themselves up in a way only the wandmaker understood. They were all unlabeled, small, colorfully stained wood boxes that outwardly gave Harry no indication as to the contents contained inside. The only variations between each box seemed to be the color of the wood itself, both in the main box as well as the lid. Harry wondered if that was on purpose, to help her organize the materials in some fashion, except that the boxes made no pattern, nor were they collected together in groups on the counter. He couldn’t help but run a finger along the counter in anticipation.

She wiggled her fingers in his direction in a sort of “come here” motion and his eyebrows drew together in confusion before realization dawned and he held his right hand back out towards her. Madam Young tsked and motioned for his left hand. “I need your left hand this time, love. I will use your right hand later for the embellishments that will enhance your wand as you mature and grow.”

Harry gave a little nod as he mulled over her words. Her fingers tickled at his palm as she brushed over lightly as she hummed, low and deep in her chest. “Your heart line…” she murmured under her breath as she traced the long, curvy line on his palm. “You freely express your emotions.” 

Madam Young sounded quite matter-of-fact, and both Papa and Uncle Moony were huffing next to him in a way that they not only agreed with her but also that they were amused by the proclamation. His ire was successfully diverted, however, when all the balsa wood boxes indiscriminate of lid color suddenly popped away as if they were never there to begin with and he jumped at the suddenness of the action. “What…?”

He scowled indignantly when she laughed at his reaction. “Each line reading will eliminate a set of my boxes until only one remain.” 

Harry suddenly understood Draco’s awe upon his return from the shop just before his own birthday ceremony in June. The magic the youngest wandmaker in the world wielded was fascinating and if Harry burned to learn more about the spells she’d been using thus far, he couldn’t imagine what Draco had felt and was most likely still feeling today.

He nodded when he realized she was waiting for some sort of response from him before she continued the reading. Her middle finger traced somewhere along the middle of his palm and he shivered at the ticklish sensation, his hand nearly clamping around hers reflexively. “Your headline is very deep, very deep.” She hummed, and all the boxes with a blue lid vanished as she commented, “good sign of a strong memory, very straight, too.” More boxes popped out of sight, this time the ones with a very light green lid. “Detail-oriented...yes, logical too. Parallel to the heart as well, can only mean good things, Harry.”

More boxes, ones made of redwood, vanished. The pile was now maybe half as big as it once had been. “I see little crosses along it, hmm.” Pink lidded boxes were gone, leaving behind yellow and orange only atop boxes made of pine, petrified, and oak. Harry had a flash of worry that perhaps none of the boxes would be right for him and swallowed hard. He shouldn’t think like that. Those thoughts were unproductive.

“Long and fairly deep lifelines, I see...” More humming and most of the pine boxes vanished, behind one with a yellow lid nestled with an orange lidded box atop an oak box while two more yellow lidded boxes atop both a petrified wood and oak remained. Four boxes left. “You’re definitely one who is in good health and you look to remain that way for many years to come.” Long nails scraped a bit along the next line in his palm, the one crossing down the center of his palm, and he swallowed hard as he couldn’t repress the full-body shudder at the sensation. 

However this time, only two of the three yellow lidded boxes vanished, leaving behind two boxes instead of one. The small group stared at the odd sight until Madam Young grinned and chuckled. “The yellow lids indicate wand core soaks while the petrified wood indicates that the contents come from a still-living creature.” She motioned next to the orange lidded pine box. “My orange lids cover cores that are rare, and sometimes illegal depending on the country.” Before Harry could panic at the idea of having an illegal core, she shook her head. “I did not bring out the cores illegal in England, Harry. I have them for those who come to me from countries that allow them. Yours will be perfectly legal for you to use in your wand.”

Harry swallowed hard and gave a short nod of acceptance. His tied-back hair swished as he at the movement, and when she moved to open first the orange lid, he gripped his hands together so tightly the knuckles turned white. Inside lay shards of what appeared to be bone and Madam Young’s head tilted in a curious sort of fashion.

“Interesting.” She murmured as she touched a shard carefully. “A rare one indeed, child. I am one of the few to re-discover the necessity of providing the option for such a wand core as the horn from a horned serpent.” Her eyes shot to Papa’s in a silent question who sighed, closing his eyes briefly.

“It is not common knowledge,” Papa said finally, and after Harry realized what was being insinuated, a long frozen moment of horror passed through the room. Harry hoped she wouldn’t throw him out of the room just because he happened to speak to snakes like the stupid Dark Lord did. People could get weird about parselmouths, at least according to Draco. Harry wouldn’t be stupid enough to tell just anyone about his unusual abilities.

Madam Young’s eyes narrowed in a way that made Harry a tiny bit less worried. She didn’t look afraid or anything like that, just annoyed that his papa was questioning her. “You know very well I do not hold to the ridiculous notion that Parselmouth equals dark arts user, Severus. We held many a discussion during your apprenticeship and I know parsel ability was one of them.”

Ignoring the rest of her rant at Papa, Harry nearly collapsed in his relief. True, Draco was right and a lot of people probably _ would _ react badly at the discovery, but _ she _ hadn’t. In fact, she had a wand core that apparently was specifically intended for those who spoke parsel, if by the way she reacted was any indication. As they continued to argue, his eyes were drawn to the last unopened box sitting on the counter and his curiosity burned. What was the other core? What was the soak the one the shards of horn would sit in? 

His fingers crawled towards the box along the counter as he thought through all the possibilities. He didn’t get a chance to peek under the lid however because a long thin finger dropped pointer down in front of his hand in a clear and silent warning. _ Cease and desist. _ Harry knew his father’s rules for touching when out and about in stores and shops: don’t unless directed to. He obediently removed his hand back to his side, curling the fingers into a fist hiding under his sleeve.

He risked a look up at the wand shop proprietor and instantly blushed at the slight smirk in her eyes. She knew what he had been about to do in his impatience. “I believe it’s time to return to the matter at hand, Severus. We can finish this talk later.”

“Agreed.” Harry didn’t have to look at Papa to see the extreme disapproval at his dismissal of manners. He could hear it loud and clear in his tone. Trying to ignore the little twist in his stomach at disappointing his father, Harry watched as the orange lid was finally moved to the side and revealed four stoppered beakers full of an almost milky viscous liquid. On each jar was an etched series of moons with the full moon large and centered and underneath were the words _ werewolf saliva. _

“Oh!” She let out a little exclamation of surprise that bloomed into a sudden smile. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at all, given who your father is and what he is known for.” She lifted the beaker out and set it on the counter with a loud click. “And considering just how talented I hear you are at potions, I should have expected this to be your wand soak.”

Harry perked up at her words. “Does werewolf saliva help with potion making?” He wanted to be a potioneer like his father, so hearing that was very good news indeed.

Madam Young nodded. “Indeed it does.” She moved to uncork the vial when a soft throat-clearing from Harry’s other side halted her motions. “Yes?”

Harry looked over to see his uncle Moony wearing a very uncomfortable look. “Would it...would it be possible for him to use...well, to use _ my _ saliva?" Harry immediately liked that idea immensely. If his wand could be made with something someone he loved could provide...

Her eyes turned calculating as she swept him up and down with her gaze. “It would.” She admitted slowly. “Am I then correct in my assumption you are close to the boy?”

“He’s my Uncle Moony.” Harry piped up proudly and was gratified to see the sandy-haired man with a little half-smile poking out from under his mustache that Harry still hoped one day he would shave off.

He’s given a soft smile from all three adults and he squirmed under their attention. “I was close to his biological father.” Uncle Remus said quietly, finally looking away from Harry to address the witch directly, Papa’s gaze soon following. “We were brothers in all but blood and I am lucky and grateful Severus as his father still allows me in his life.” 

Harry held his breath. Would she allow it? No one else he knew had a wand made with family spit! “Family magics will only strengthen the bond of the wand, and those of choice can be stronger than blood.” _Yes!_ _Ha!_ He slapped a hand over his mouth when the laugh burst out and three different expressions were immediately once again aimed at him. Madam Young in bewilderment, Uncle Moony in amusement, and Papa with an arched brow and pursed lips.

Oops. He hoped his smile was as charming as Draco’s, embarrassed such a sound had escaped despite working so hard to keep his decorum in place. She continued speaking as if he hadn’t interrupted, and with a wary look at him from the corner of her eye. “As I was saying, family magics will only work to make the wand stronger. I have a potion I use to gather the saliva if you are willing…”

“Yes.” The man interrupted, eager and bright-eyed with emotion. “He’s the closest I’ll ever...Yes. I’ll do anything.” 

_ What does he mean, I’m the closest he’ll ever...what? _ Before he could contemplate what his uncle could mean, a scraping sound jolted his attention back to his wand as a small vial come sailing through the door from the back storeroom, a glass bowl following closely behind. 

“Your saliva, despite not having most of the werewolf properties in your human state, will work now. I do not need you to wait until the next full moon.” She handed it over and motioned to the back room. “You’re welcome to take it back there. The effects last two minutes and will provide me with what I need.” With a nod, he knocked it back quickly as he disappeared into the solitary room. 

Harry was disappointed. He wanted to see the effects of the potion. He could only see that the color was a light green and that it had little sediment. He couldn’t try to recreate the potion if he couldn’t see what exactly happened when consumed. “How long will it take to make my wand?” He asked in an attempt to distract himself from his desire to follow Uncle Remus. He really wanted to see the potion at work!

“Not long.” She said with a voice muffled from where her head was under the counter. Then her head popped up and she aimed a look at the two wand core boxes. "That is, after the hour-long soak. I'm afraid you'll have to come back to retrieve your wand, Harry."

Papa interjected before Harry could make a protest. “That will be just fine. It will give us enough time for lunch. We just need our slobbering werewolf back before we can depart.” He said as he nudged Harry towards the door. “Wait over there while I pay for your wand.” Harry moved obediently, snickering a little at the joke made on Uncle Remus’ behalf.

The expression on Uncle Moony's face when he came out of the backroom told Harry that he heard every word Papa said and was not as amused by the comments as the two of them were. “You’d better take me somewhere to eat before I slobber on _ you _, Severus.” Harry snickered at Uncle Moony’s grumpy words and waved at the wandmaker before the door closed behind the trio. 

“Stop looking at me like that, Wolf. I was already planning on the cafe for lunch.”

“Mm. But I was thinking of having some steak, order it all rare and bloody.”

“You are five days past the full moon! You’ll have a sandwich and like it.”

Harry’s stomach let out a rumbly sort of grumble just as the scent of freshly baked bread wafted by from the direction of their favorite cafe and his nose automatically turned to sniff the delicious stream while his two favorite adults bickered next to him. _ Sandwich, then my wand will finally be mine! _ It was going to be so hard to remain patient.

~~*~*~~

Stonehenge

England

~~*~*~~

Severus’ POV

~~*~*~~

His little boy had looked so tall and grown-up today during their trip to Rue Claudel, with his exquisitely expensive robes and impeccably (well, mostly) polite manners. Dressed now in the snow-white hand-spun robes every new eleven-year-old wore for the first of three coming-of-age ceremonies, he looked so young and innocent with his eyes wide and curious as they walked around the giant stone circle. The Henge was beautiful tonight, all lit up with firelight, and the night sky was clear and calm: all good omens for what was to come. They were not alone as they walked, hand-in-hand, Harry’s trembling just enough to let Severus know he was at his most anxious. 

He knew the boy was the most disappointed that none of the Weasley children would be able to attend, but with Bill starting his assignment in Egypt for his work with the Goblins at Gringotts and Charlie already on the Dragon Reserve, Molly had been reluctant to allow Percy to attend alone. And when he had put forth the idea she or Aurthur accompany Percy, she had dug her heels in further. The Weasley’s and the Prewett’s had both diverted away from the traditional way of magic a century ago, only assisting to the evidence to the other pureblood families in labeling them as blood traitors, and she had staunch beliefs in never returning to those ways of life. He suspects that even if one of her older boys had been available, Percy still would not have been permitted to come. Molly had always been rather strict with her children and what they could and could not do, even to the two who were now of age.

The starting drum sounded and Harry paled dramatically. Severus feared his son would collapse due to a sudden lack of blood in the brain, but he only gave a small waver before steeling himself and moving towards his spot in the center of the circle. The boy’s jaw worked as he swallowed and his nervousness was written all over his face. He wasn’t a fan of being the center of attention, but Severus knew that the peace and anonymity they had enjoyed throughout Harry’s childhood would end as the school year drew closer and people began to speculate once again. He knew it was only due to careful manipulations by Lucius that Harry’s current parentage had remained out of the papers up until now.

His own pale tan ceremonial robes, such a stark contrast to those he usually wore, brushed a bare whisper against his calves and the grass was soft and ticklish on his bare feet as he took his place in front of the altar, and he could see Harry’s immediate relief when he realized that his father would be there in his sight at all times tonight as his shoulders slumped a little as he sighed before his back stiffened and the poise he knew would show finally made its appearance.

Harry had been practicing for weeks his posture and walk in order to look as proper as possible. He had admitted to Severus that Draco had looked so adult just by how he was holding himself that Harry felt if he didn’t do the same, he would embarrass both himself and his papa. No assurances from Severus would ease his anxiety, and so he had continued his practicing. He had to admit that the boy’s perseverance had certainly paid off. He appeared almost as aristocratic as Draco had a couple of months prior. A small smirk quirked his lips as he watched Harry’s eyes wander the forming circle and wondered just how long his son would manage to hold this posture. He only hoped the boy would relax soon before he gave himself a stress headache. 

Once satisfied everyone was relatively ready to begin, he lifted his hands and the circle hushed, never lifting his hood covered head. In the silence of the evening, his voice boomed loudly as his face also lifted to address the heavens. “We call you, Circe, and we ask you to join us this night in our circle of celebration.” His arms remained raised as he walked forward until he stood directly behind Harry and looked out at all the friends and family who had come just to help support his son. “And her blessings to those who have gathered here, to those who have helped see this day to fruition.” Swallowing hard in an effort to hold back sudden emotion, he slowly lowered his hands until he could grip the boy’s shoulders firmly. “Tonight is a night we celebrate the life of Harry and seek wisdom for his future.”

Harry’s head bowed just briefly, and Severus knew from that little bob that the boy was fighting back embarrassment. He gave his words a moment to settle before resuming his little speech. “We have all watched Harry grow and mature and today he is magically ready to begin his formal schooling.” Relinquishing his hold on one shoulder, he swept his hand out to include everyone gathered. “We each have brought something, an observation of Harry’s talents and strengths, and together we will see him off on his own path.”

His hand dropped back down and Harry reached up to grip just briefly at his finger, and Severus was instantly filled with warmth and comfort. No matter how old his boy would be, no matter how large and how mature, he would always need him in some way or another, just as Severus knew he would always need his son. “As his father, I will begin and end the observations.” Here, he stepped back from Harry as he turned him around until he was at arm's length and sank until he was on one knee and eye level with the boy. Severus could already see the tears hiding in Harry’s eyes and hoped the child would make it through everyone essentially complimenting him. _ He never did accept compliments well. _ “I see how responsible you have become, and I know you will only continue to grow.”

Sure enough, a single tear escaped before he even finished saying the last word. “Thank you, Father.” He whispered tightly, chin quivering ever so slightly.

“I love you.” Severus pulled his son into a brief (so very brief) hug. “Now to your godmother.”

Off he marched, head held high even though the tears were welling, towards Narcissa and Lucius. Estelle was struggling to stay with her father when she saw her mother hugging Harry, but she held back long enough for Narcissa to say, “I have seen that you value learning. Take care of your knowledge, Harry, and share it wisely.” 

Lucius followed with a hand on his shoulder and soft, authoritative words. “I see that you value intelligence, both in yourself and others. Take care that you do not become arrogant with your intelligence and you will go far.”

“Thank you, Godmother. Godfather.” Harry gave a little nod to each of them before sneaking a brief smile to Draco who grinned back.

Alessandra was next, flanked by both of her sons. She kissed both of Harry’s cheeks before she spoke. “Harry, you are a light to those around you. Never lose that which makes you shine.” She ended her statement with a gentle kiss to his forehead, stroking his shoulders with her thumbs softly.

Harry bowed again. “Thank you, Tia.” He was looking positively red by this point, and Severus knew he was burning inside with the inability to argue against their words. He hated being complimented. The boy moved on to stand in front of Rosemary and Percival.

“Oh, Harry.” Rosemary’s French accent was as thick as ever as she gushed quietly over him. “Your potions one day will surpass your father if you only continue your studies.” And Severus wasn’t even a little annoyed at the assumption because he had already had the same thought multiple times.

Percival smirked a little at Severus and he knew that man was going to mention the exact thing he expressly had told them all _ not to talk about _. “Not only do you value learning and academics, but you are also an adventurous young man as well as a superb flyer. I look forward to seeing what you do to Hogwarts on and off your broom, Harry.” 

While he would support Harry no matter what he chose, he desperately didn’t want to have to spend the rest of his days having heart attack after heart attack watching his son dive all around the sky _ professionally _. It was going to be bad enough watching the games at school. Nor did he want the boy entertaining any notion of after curfew adventures. “Thank you Tante, thank you Oncle.” Severus could now read the relief all over Harry’s face as he made his way back to the center of the circle, this time facing his father instead of the circle as he waited for Severus to complete the round.

It was a lot harder to do than he had anticipated. “My son, my wonderful boy.” The knot in his throat didn’t ease when he swallowed and he resigned himself to fighting his emotions the entire evening. “You have a large capacity for kindness and you demonstrate you have learned the need for patience and understanding. I hope you continue to grow in your abilities to talk and help others. I think I speak for everyone here when I tell you that I am unbelievably proud of you and much you’ve grown emotionally, physically, and magically.”

Harry’s reply wasn’t even audible through the tears flooding his eyes, only able to mouth a thank you to Severus, and he took a moment to pull the boy into another hug to help him bring himself back to at least a modicum of composure before he pulled away to continue.

“Harry, over the last month, you were told to complete a series of meditations.” His voice echoed over the hills nearby and he winced. He wasn’t used to hearing himself at that volume, and his voice tended to carry rather well. Mentally shrugging it off, he continued. “You were to meditate on what it was you wanted to achieve from formal education at this juncture in your life. Have you chosen such?”

While wobbly and quiet, Harry’s words were full of conviction. “I have, Father.” The boy said clearly, though his eyes remained closed. Most likely so he wouldn’t vomit from nerves. “I wish to learn all I need so I might one day accomplish my dreams. I want to be a potions master one day. I want to find cures those who are told they cannot be helped.”

Knowledge, learning, caring for others. For Harry, that took precedence over quidditch and games and Severus felt pride well up from deep within that his boy took so much after himself, despite the lack of blood between them. He would just need to keep an eye on the boy to ensure he didn’t start to isolate himself for his studies. "Then turn and be known to those gathered as a Seeker of Knowledge.”

The silence erupted into hooting and hollering and cheering as Harry made the slow turn around to face his family and friends. Severus could see his cheeks were pink with pleasure and embarrassment both and he quirked a little grin at the back of the boy’s head. Harry would just have to get over being fawned over. After all, everyone was gathered to celebrate Harry, and even though the ceremony itself would soon be concluding, the revelry was just beginning. 

It was going to be a long, joyous night for all.


	3. Chapter 2: Flying By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to mention this at the beginning and forgot, but please always double-check the tags and my endnotes for any warnings. I will add tags as I update chapters if need be. Thanks so much for reading and extra high-fives to anyone who’s reviewed and commented. I read and appreciate each one, even if I do rarely manage to respond to them, and I love seeing speculation and whatnot. Thanks bunches!

~~*~*~~

10 August 1991

Diagon Alley

London, England

~~*~*~~

The last time Harry had been to Diagon Alley, he had been too young to really form an impression on it. But what he did remember filled him with a vague sense of anxiety. Papa had made a name for himself over the years in the potions world, and it spread to lay people after an article came out in the Daily Prophet detailing his accomplishments. However, Papa wasn’t getting the newspaper at the time and so hadn’t even known about the article when he had made the mistake of taking Harry to Diagon for the first time one day after. The pair had been positively mobbed by a thrilled public. Papa had subscribed to the Prophet after that so no other surprises could happen. The people who frequented Rue Claudel tended towards a far more sedate reaction if they happened to recognize Severus Snape, not to mention Master Aziz’s shop was there, so Rue had become their only shopping destination.

It was with that oft-told story simmering in his stomach that fed his anxious call for ‘Diagon Alley’ from the Malfoy’s floo, his little Gemma safe at home in her aquarium. He knew that he would not land alone, Uncle Lucius was waiting with Draco on the other side in the floo office, but that knowledge didn’t ease his worry or wish that Papa was with him. 

He spun and spun, the world a kaleidoscope of fireplaces and living rooms and the like before he was spat out onto the rough brick floor of the office. He dusted himself off, only to have the rest of the ash vanish quickly, and he flashed a grateful smile at his godfather. “Thank you.”

Uncle Lucius just nodded at him and nudged both boys with his cane. “Come along, boys. Narcissa will meet us at Gringotts once Estelle is finally ready.” That was all it took to have Harry moving towards the closed door, the foggy and dusty inset window obscuring any sort of view of the alley. He scarcely waited for Uncle Lucius to grant permission to open the door before both he and Draco burst out of the door frame into the crowded alley and was immediately overwhelmed with everything. The noise was tenfold that of Rue Claudel, at least to Harry, and all the flashing and whirling displays set up in front of many of the stores had his brain spinning dizzily.

The very first thing his eyes actually focused on was a flashing, twirling broom in a display window that read ‘Nimbus 2000’ and he scowled at it petulantly. Papa  _ and  _ Uncle Lucius had already told both him and Draco that they would not be receiving any new brooms of any sort until their second year, and then only if they made the quidditch team. Though, Harry knew that if Auntie Cissa had anything to say about it, both of them would have new brooms for Yule. They’d both outgrown their child brooms, anyway, and they will both want to fly during the holidays.

He moved his gaze along, trying to scope out where first the potions shop and then the bookshop was located. They would be going there after Ollivanders, the first stop for all four of them. As Papa had explained when Harry had complained about having to get one of Ollivander’s wands, owning a secondary wand ensured that a witch or wizard could never be rendered completely unarmed, even if their primary wand was expelled from them. Instead of the shop, however, he caught a glimpse of familiar red hair and wire-framed glasses and his discomfort was almost forgotten in the excitement that he might see other friends preparing for school today. 

“I think I see Percy!” Harry whispered to Draco as he gave him a nudge with an elbow that Draco returned sharply. It was a few weeks before the start of school and it would be one of the last times all four of the quartet would be able to see each other before September. They were using today to fetch the last of their school robes and books as well as spare wands from Ollivander’s shop. Papa wanted him to have a backup wand, just in case. “I want to say hello before we find Blaise and Pansy, but not if his little brothers are anywhere around.” 

“You're out of luck then,” Draco pointed and patted at his new style of stiffly slicked back hair that Harry felt looked rather ridiculous on his friend. “I see the twins...and of course they’re going to be bothering him.” 

Harry scowled as he watched the twins appear from what seemed to be nowhere to pull on Percy’s robes and try to grab something from his hands. “I really don’t like them.” He muttered, his nose curling as they started walking towards the Weasley’s, Uncle Lucius trailing behind them. “They’re nothing but bullies.” Harry heard his godfather snort when Molly finally paid attention to her brood and started scolding them shrilly, and he resisted the urge to cover his ears. “Bloody banshee.”

Draco snickered but Lucius frowned down at them. “We do not say such things about others.” His tone was smooth and silky, a clear sign of his disapproval at his actions. “Remember that no matter how you may feel about a person, perception is key. You never want them to even have an inclination you might dislike them, otherwise you are allowing them to have power over you.”

Harry hunched his shoulders briefly before straightening up, refusing to cow down, while Draco cut off his laughing and appeared contrite. “I apologize, Uncle Lucius. I know better. It’s not that I don’t like her, it’s just that she’s really, um. She’s too loud.”

His honesty was rewarded with a small, pleased smile and a soft hand on his shoulder. “She is at that. Be that as it may, we still keep those sort of comments to ourselves.” 

He hung his head, but lifted it when he felt a squeeze on his shoulder. “Yes, Uncle Lucius. I’ll remember that in the future.”

There was another squeeze before the hand left his shoulder and Uncle Lucius stepped back. “You are still young. Perfection is not an expectation, just an acknowledgment of your mistakes and willingness to learn from them. Use every opportunity to utilize the etiquette lessons you have learned, chid.”

Before he could respond, he heard his name come from Molly in a much sweeter tone than the one she had just used with the twins. He gave her a polite smile as she ushered the four children still with her along towards them. “Good morning, Mrs. Weasley.” 

Ron appeared to be dragging his feet, just as eager to encounter Harry as he was to see Ron if his downcast gaze and slight sneer was any indication of his feelings. The only bright spot was Percy was still with them and he wanted to talk to Percy. Hopefully, Draco would behave and keep his mouth shut, though Harry wouldn’t hold his breath for it.

“Oh good morning, Harry dear.” She leaned over to hug him and he accepted the hug gracefully. She might sound like a banshee, but she  _ had _ come a long way from the woman who had accused him of being as bad as her horrible twins and he could honestly say he somewhat liked the woman now. For the most part. She was still too shrill, too insistent he consume plates upon plates of food, too pushy that he and Ron be friends, not to mention he was currently still a little upset Percy had been forbidden from attending his birthday celebrations, but he’d get over that soon. “Percival was hoping he’d see you today.” Especially if she kept calling him by his full name. He’d never get over the sight of his friend’s face screwing up like that. He looked like he had just chewed an entire lemon and it was just delightful to watch.

“Honestly, Mother. Enough with my full name.” Percy’s huff was tinged with embarrassment before pulling Harry off to the side, who allowed himself to be dragged along while Draco trotted just behind. Molly smiled at them before turning to Papa to start talking and Harry relaxed as soon as she was no longer paying attention to him or his conversation with her son. 

“Hello, Percy.” Harry grinned at his still ruffled friend. “Didn’t know I’d see you today.”

Percy finished smoothing out his robes and huffed softly before turning his attention fully on the two boys. “It really is good to see you, Harry. You too, Draco.” Here Draco nodded politely, something Harry appreciated. Draco didn’t really like that Harry was friend’s with some of the Weasleys, but had given his reluctant stamp of approval once he found out how proper Percy could be. “I am terribly sorry I wasn’t able to come to your birthday ritual. It sounded fascinating.”

“Good to see you, too. And I’m not mad.” He was disappointed and irritated maybe but not angry. “Your mum is a bit…” His voice trailed off as he tried to find an appropriate, yet polite, way to describe the overbearing and overprotective mother and finally gave up, shrugging helplessly before motioning to the shining object in Percy’s hand. “What were the twins trying to steal from you?”

His curiosity piqued to see Percy puff up with pride. “Well, actually, that’s one of the reasons I couldn’t come. That morning was the day I found out I had…”

Much to both of their irritation, two horrors interrupted their conversation. “Percy’s now a prefect.” Fred elbowed his older brother and George did the same on the other side before looping an arm around his neck to drag him down to let the other twin ruffle at Percy’s hair.

“Get off of me!” Percy growled and shoved both the twins off of him and they giggled and twirled in mocking bows. “Let me tell Harry!”

“Yeah, Perfect Prefect Percy.” They both snickered together and Harry frowned at them as he saw Percy’s red face, though whether from irritation or embarrassment, he couldn't tell.

“He’s only told us a million times.”

“Every day.”

“All summer.”

Harry couldn’t stand another moment of their antics. His eyes narrowed and he stepped forward just a half pace, nearly hissing in his irritation at being interrupted by the two terrors of Hogwarts. “Excuse me, but I believe I was talking with Percy, not either of you, so back out of the conversation.”

They held up their hands in mock surrender but only did as he asked when Uncle Lucius loomed over them and stared down at them calmly. They muttered excuses about meeting their partner-in-crime Lee and took off in the direction of the bookshop, waving at their mother when she demanded they return by one at the latest, their untied trainers flapping against the cobblestones as they vanished around the corner. “Ingrates,” Draco muttered under his breath.

Harry thought about the various ways Papa had described the twins over the years and smirked. “I think the description you’re looking for is rabble-rouser.” With a quiet exhale, he turned back to Percy, ignoring Draco snickering next to him. “Let’s try this again. What were the twins trying to steal from you?” 

The smile Percy gave him was one filled with gratefulness and relief, and of course now obvious irritation at his brothers. “They keep trying to prank my new badge.” He thrust said object into Harry’s hands, who immediately started to examine it with growing excitement for his friend. “I was made Gryffindor prefect for the fifth years,” Percy said, his face blooming into a proud grin that reached nearly ear to ear. “Mother said I can give my grandmother's wand to Ron because I get to buy a wand today, one chosen and not just taken from the family vault! I can’t believe they chose me!” His fingers were pulling at the ends of his robe sleeves in his anxiety and excitement and Harry felt a stab of sympathy. His friend had really been wanting the position and now that he knew he had it, it was obvious he was anxious about doing well in his new role.

Which, was absolutely ridiculous in Harry’s mind. If anyone was ever suited for such responsibility, it was Percy. “Of course they chose you!” Unsurprisingly, Draco also had something to say about the matter, and his own protest escaped rather vehemently. “Everyone else in your year is an absolute moron.”

Harry nodded emphatically. The very idea that his should-have-been-in-Ravenclaw friend was overly nervous about something he was more than capable of doing was unacceptable. “The only one that would even come close to being up to challenging you would be Ollie and I know he would rather be Quidditch Captain.”

“Actually, since Peterson graduated last year…” Percy trailed off with a knowing smirk and Draco gasped in what could only be horror which had Harry giggling a little at the overdramatization.

“He’s the new Captain?” Percy nodded and both boys groaned in dismay, Draco was leaning against the wall next to him with a hand pressed to his forehead while Harry laughed internally at his theatrical friend. “He’s going to be brutal to go against,” Draco moaned pitifully and Harry nodded emphatically. Gryffindor might actually win a Quidditch game this year. 

A loud voice interrupted their conversation and had all three of them startling before turning to see who had called to them. “Hey, Percy!” The happy Scottish boy in question was jumping and waving down the alley and Percy grinned back, though his return greeting was a far more sedate wave. 

“Hello, Ollie!” He looked back and smiled an apology. “Need to run, Harry. We’re meeting up with Gemma at Gringotts now. I’ll find you on the train if I don’t see you later, okay?”

Harry nodded and waved as his friend joined up with the other fifth-year Gryffindor and disappeared in the direction of the wizarding bank. He elbowed Draco who was still scowling at Percy and Oliver’s retreating backs. “Cut it out.”

“But,  _ Oliver Wood _ is the Gryffindor Captain.” He whined and all that was missing was a foot stomp to make the tantrum complete. “You’ve seen him play!”

“We’ll be fine.” He tried to sound reassuring, even as the anxiety deep in him told him he wasn’t going to be a Slytherin so the ‘we’ part was a lie and he was giving his friend false hope. He might as well resign himself to seven years of showing support for Gryffindor. He didn’t have a whole lot of hope for escaping that fate. “We have Marcus stepping up as Captain too, after all. He’s just as good a strategist and player as Ollie.” 

Oh, how he was dreading the sorting coming in September. No matter what anyone told him, he knew that James and Lily had been in Gryffindor, and since families tend to sort together he’ll more than likely go to Gryffindor. At least, that’s what Ron liked to tell him every single time he went over to the Burrow and couldn’t avoid him. It wouldn’t matter to the stupid hat that he was raised by Slytherins, that he was more literally any other house than Gryffindor. He would take sodding Hufflepuff over Gryffindor at this point because, in his mind, his blood ties to his biological parents shouldn’t force him to be in a house he doesn’t fit in. 

Draco pouted deeper, thankfully unaware of what was going on in Harry’s head because otherwise, Harry would be hearing a lecture on just how ridiculous he was for the rest of the day. “I suppose.” They fell silent for a bit, Harry scuffing his shoe at the cobblestones of the alley as he looked around at Diagon Alley again. He preferred Rue Claudel, he decided silently.

“Narcissa! Oh, and Estelle you’re looking lovelier every time I see you, princess.” Both boys turned to see that Auntie Cissa had indeed finally joined them, a placid smile of politeness on her face as the other mother fawned over the littlest Malfoy, who appeared to be happily soaking up the positive attention. It was very odd, Harry felt, to see Mrs. Weasley so happy to see a pair of Malfoys. Maybe she finally decided they weren’t going to use Harry for some evil ritual after all.

He almost laughed at the look on Auntie Cissa’s face when Mrs. Weasley asked, “why don’t you guys join us? Ron would enjoy being around a couple of boys his age, I think. We’re just popping into Gringotts first before going to the apothecary.” 

He’d laugh if it wasn’t so tiring because of course, she’d ask. For all the times Molly had redeemed herself, she still tried to make the pair of them get along and it never went well. He and Ron were polite to one another now whenever Harry was over for a visit, but neither did either of them reach out to hang out with the other. At least, Harry had stopped reaching out (not that he had done much to begin with). He was fairly certain Ron was still holding onto the hope he and Harry would be best friends, but he’d never consent to hanging out with Harry so long as Draco Malfoy was around, and that suited Harry just fine.

“I’m terribly sorry, but we’ve made prior plans. Perhaps another time.” She said evenly, much to Harry’s relief. 

Even more surprising was the response. “Oh, not a problem, not a problem.” The Weasley matriarch waved it off and smiled brightly before launching into a rousing tale of some mischief the twins had caused just that morning that he immediately tuned out.

Harry wanted to leave and come back tomorrow just so they didn’t have to deal with Ron and the Twins, but today was the only day before school started that both Lucius and Narcissa could bring Draco for his first school trip, so Harry would have to deal. Papa would join them just as soon as he could escape the Headmaster’s staff meeting but there was no guarantee that he would be able to get away, and Harry sighed. He was thankful that his birthday trip had been considered his  _ real _ first day of school shopping. Today was merely for pretense.

“Did you notice no one seems to know who you are?” Draco whispered as he looked around the alley at the passer-by who all seem to ignore them. The most attention they received were those glances towards the Malfoys, and only because of _ who _ the family was, not that they were with the Boy who survived Voldemort.

“Papa says no one knew my name, only that the Potter's had given birth to an heir,” Harry explained just as quietly, not wanting to be overheard. “He says no one knows for certain if I even survived as when Hagrid got there no one was in the house except...well, you know.” He wasn’t going to mention his dead parents out loud, there was no need for that. “Which means no one knows Papa adopted me, meaning the Potter heir. They all think I’m either his biologically or an orphaned relative.” Which wasn’t fully wrong. He was an orphan, just not related to his Papa save through the ritual when he was adopted.

“That makes hiding easier.”

Harry shrugged dispassionately. "Yeah, but it doesn't stop the Prophet from speculating about the Boy-Who-Lived." Or from spreading rumors. His current favorite was that he was being raised by dragons handlers in Romania because no one would dare attack someone being protected by dragons. He  _ wished _ he lived on the dragon reserve, he’d never be bored.

"I suppose not." Draco sighed before planting fists on his hips. “Why didn’t you ever come with me to Diagon when we were younger then? If no one would know who you were, why only go to Rue Claudel?” 

Harry shrugged again and fidgeted with the edge of his robe sleeve as he thought about all the advancements in potions Papa had made over the years and a little smile appeared. “Well, the one time I did come, we were mobbed by everyone. Not because of me, but because Papa had just had an article come out about a potion he had invented. So, at least as far as I know, no one knows I was once a Potter.” He scowled a bit and glared at Ron who was watching gormlessly the Quidditch display next to them. “Well, all the Weasleys do, and so do the teachers, but no one has said anything at least.” Maybe Uncle Lucius had something to do with keeping it out of the papers. He knew a lot of important people it was certainly possible.

“How much do you want to bet someone will figure it out in the first week at school?” Draco teased and Harry shoved at his shoulder.

“Don’t joke like that.” He said darkly. “That is the  _ last _ thing I need to have happen.” With Narcissa’s placid disinterest still focused on Molly, and Estelle pulling on her arm in an effort to get over to Draco, Harry carefully caught Lucius’s attention with a hand placed on the older man’s arm. When his godfather looked down at him, Harry asked in a whisper “may Draco and I go to Ollivander’s now? We’re meeting Blaise and Pansy there soon.”

“Do you both have your pocket money?” When the two boys nodded, Lucius smiled and gave a sharp nod. "I'll be along with your mother after we stop at Gringotts. Go ahead." When Harry moved to grab Draco’s hand to pull him towards the wand shop, Estelle let out a whine of displeasure that the pair ignored.

“Take me, too!” Narcissa hushed the child and tucked her back into her side, Estelle whining a little but quieting when a hand rubbed her back gently. 

“Gringotts and then we will find your brother.” Harry heard Auntie Cissa say to the little girl as he and Draco trotted off in the direction of the eccentric old wandmaker’s shop. He could feel Ron’s gaze as they left and felt a twinge of guilt that he would have to stay with his mum and the twins but just as soon as it popped up it vanished. It wasn’t his fault Ron couldn’t get over his prejudice of the Malfoys long enough to actually get to know Draco.

“But I want a wand, too!” Estelle chirped and Harry snorted at the very idea of Estelle with a wand she was in tune to.

Apparently, Draco had the same idea because he started to giggle as they walked away from the gathered adults. “She’d bring the manor to its foundations if she possessed her own wand. She’s a maniac.”

Harry would long enjoy the mental image of Estelle standing in her pinkest, frilliest robes, giggling at the destruction all around her. “I’m glad we’ll be graduating before she starts.”

Draco’s only response was an almost hysterical laugh of relief.

~~*~*~~

23 August 1991

Hogwarts

Scotland

~~*~*~~

Their footsteps echoed loudly in the empty stone hallway, his short and padding, his father’s long clicking strides. “Why do we have to be here this early again?” His tone was just barely a hint shy of a whine but they hadn’t had to be here at school this early ever before so he was irritated and annoyed and had been since he’d woken up early from nerves that morning.

He heard an exasperated sigh and Harry knew his father was reaching the end of his patience with him today but he didn’t  _ want _ to be at Hogwarts yet. Not when there weren’t any other children around. He hated Hogwarts when he was alone. At least with Draco, exploring was fun because they discovered things together. He would very much rather have stayed home for the next week like they had every other year prior.

“Harry, I have already explained this to you twice today. As I am to take on the mantle of Head of House for Slytherin, there is more I need to prepare. Horace intends to provide support throughout the year, but the responsibilities are now mine.” Papa’s tone was silky smooth and Harry had to fight the urge to gulp. He really was on his final straw if Papa sounded  _ that _ calm despite Harry’s multitude of annoying questions. “On top of preparing my classroom and my materials, I now need to attend meetings with the other Heads of Houses and they always meet a few days before the rest of the staff join us.”

Some staff resided year-round while others kept their own properties, but all the staff took advantage of the summer months to take holidays or indulge in hobbies and the like. For years, Papa had only had to return to the school with the majority of the staff, just a week before the start of school. Now, he had to come even earlier because Papa had agreed to be in charge of Slytherin so the old Potions Professor Horace Slughorn could move to an even more part-time position just teaching the first through fourth-year potions classes. “But, what I am going to do while I’m stuck here?” He was definitely whining now, but he couldn't help it. It just wasn’t fair. He didn’t  _ want _ to share his Papa.

Papa gave him another sharp look as if he was reading Harry’s thoughts, and had Harry not known Papa’s strict rule for waiting until Harry asked first, he would’ve been more suspicious. “Please do not think of it as being ‘stuck here’.” He sighed a little and brought up a hand to rub at Harry’s shoulder comfortingly. He gripped the hand tightly. “I trust you can entertain yourself while following the rules I have given you. I  _ will _ know if you do not.”

And he would. He always managed to find out. “Yes, Papa.” He said sullenly, and Papa sighed again.

“Harry, what did I tell you?”

Harry scowled darkly and crossed his arms over his chest, effectively hugging himself. “Not to be informal, that I”m not allowed to call you Father anymore.” He didn’t  _ want _ to call his father Professor yet. “You’re not calling me Mr. Snape.” He couldn’t help but add on petulantly.

There's a soft exhale that sounds morose from his father and he hunched into himself at the sound. “I am not forbidding you from referring to me as your father, but I am to be your professor and it would be remiss of me to not insist you use that next couple of weeks to practice the moniker.” There was a pause and then in a lower tone, Papa added, “and you are correct, Mr. Snape, I have been remiss in my own practicing.”

Harry knew he was right but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He dropped his crossed arms and huffed and dragged his feet a little, intentionally scraping them to annoy Papa. He got an eyebrow raise but no other reaction and Harry felt a little disappointed. “Yes, Professor.”

Papa smiled sadly at him and Harry felt himself relax a smidge. Papa didn’t like him having to use the title either, it seemed, and that made the prospect of having to use it every day a little easier to stomach. He wasn’t going to lose his father, not yet anyway. He looked up when Papa cleared his throat with a cough. “I will allow some leeway for office time, and if I see you in the Great Hall or outside, but the hallways and classrooms.” His dark eyes were warm and Harry relaxed further.

That seemed fair to him, if not nearly enough for his liking, but he’d take what he’d get at this point. “What are you going to do if I’m in Slytherin?"

“I will manage.” He said dryly. “Never doubt my ability to treat you fairly and like any other student when necessary, son.” They turned a corner and Harry realized they were headed towards the stairs that lead to the potions corridor instead of the staff’s tower quarters.

“Where are we going?” He asked curiously. Was he going to get to help Papa set up his classroom? That would be interesting, at least more than exploring a castle he’d grown up exploring. Not to mention Gemma was confined to Papa’s quarters until his second year as the list of accepted first year pets did not include snakes, even non venomous ones like Gemma. He wasn’t even allowed to carry her around before school began as Papa didn’t want either of them growing used to the arrangement yet. He planned on many visits down if he needed. He wasn’t spending months without his beloved snake.

Papa’s explanation dashed that hope, however. “Not only do I need to discuss Head of House duties, Professor Slughorn and I are also going to be revising our data and compiling everything together and I need to meet with him briefly before we unpack our quarters.” Here a large grin spread across Papa’s face and Harry couldn’t help but answer with a small one of his own. “I believe we’ve created something marvelously wonderful for the Wizarding World’s schools to use.”

Despite all the excitement and pride for his father, Harry hoped he wouldn’t forget about him with all his new responsibilities. He wasn't sure if he could bear it if he had to rely solely on his soon-to-be head of house because his Papa was too busy being a professor to be his father. “So what am I going to do?”

“Sit quietly, hold your questions, and wait for me.” Papa said before adding, “patiently, if you please.”

Harry made a face at the floor as they exited the stairs and rounded a corner. He caught a faint whiff of something unrecognizably pungent before finding himself tripping over something soft and leather. He was caught by both arms just before landing on his face and looked up to see not only Papa holding an arm but Professor Quirrell with the other. Harry blinked as the face registered and he let out a startled shriek as he leaped at the man, nearly weeping in his joy.

“Professor Quirrel! I thought you were going to be gone for years and years and years!” He truly hadn’t expected the Muggle Studies teacher to return after only one year of sabbatical, not the way he had been talking about his plans and what he had wanted to explore. He quickly pulled back to give his teacher an appraising look, staring curiously at an unfamiliar purple turban that wrapped loosely around his head. He was still dressed in a familiar leather travel cloak, damp from the misty Scottish weather outside, and Harry desperately wanted to ask about the plum purple turban. Why was he wearing one, where did he get it, and could Harry have one too?

The professor laughed, the long tail of the turban swinging as he lifted Harry up and swung him in a tight hug. When he finally set Harry down and gripped his small hands in larger leather-gloved ones, Harry was breathless from laughing. “I could -couldn’t bear to stay away another year, and when - when Albus contacted me about how he could - couldn’t find another defense professor, I-I-I had to return.” He released one of Harry’s hands to flip the turban’s tail over his shoulder. The professor rubbed at his cheek briefly with a leather-clad thumb, giving him a similarly misty look his Papa would give him on occasion as he dropped his hand back to his side. “You’ve - you’ve grown a foot, I swear to Merlin. I’ve missed too much.”

Harry had to fight an eye roll at the sentimentality. What was it with adults and blubbering over his size? He was  _ supposed _ to grow. Instead, he beamed at the Professor and tugged on the hand still holding his. “But you’re back now! You’re back and you’re not leaving again, right? You’ll teach something else once the curse kicks you out, right?” The long-standing joke at Hogwarts was that the Defense against the Dark Arts position was cursed due to decades of yearly changes in the role but suddenly the reality wasn’t a joke, he was terrified his favorite teacher would vanish again after one year.

Professor Quirrell smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I am not - I am not leaving, at least not until long after you - after you’ve graduated.” The professor’s tone turned reproachful. “And there is no curse, Harry. That is merely superstition fueled by excitable teenagers.”

“And years upon years of rotating professors.” Harry shot back and Professor Quirrell’s face broke out into a huge grin and he tapped Harry’s nose.

“You’re too smart-”

“-for my own good.” Harry finished with him, this time not even bothering to hold back the eye roll. “ _ Everyone _ tells me this, it’s getting tiresome.” There’s a cough from beside him and he wrinkled his nose at his Papa.

“Harry -” At Harry’s glare, Papa snorted and shook his head. “ _ Mr. Snape _ , say your goodbyes. Terribly sorry, Quirinus, but we must be off. I’m meeting Horace and I am already running late.”

The man waved his hand in a vague sort of motion. “Go, go. I-I won’t keep you.” He stepped off to the side to allow the pair to pass, and when Harry looked back, he was watching them with a soft smile that the boy couldn’t help but return in like. He couldn’t wait for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He hoped Professor Quirrell would tell a lot of stories from his travels.

“ _ Mr. Snape _ .”

He jerked himself back around to face forward and had to side step to avoid colliding with the sharp corner of the wall they were rounding. “Sorry, Papa...I mean, Professor Snape.” He felt his face heat with embarrassment at his lack of attention. 

They continued along in silence for a few steps, a bare tickle of something starting at the base of his neck that only grew with each step. When his body let out a little spine shiver, he almost let out a wail of horror.  _ Oh no, not a migraine. _ He hadn’t had one since in the States last summer and that time was due to a lack of water almost all day. It was the most miserable he had ever been, except for maybe the aftereffects of almost drowning. That was worse.

He tried to pretend that a horrible headache wasn’t bearing down upon him, until they came face to face with the door and he was forced to come to an abrupt halt before he vomited from a sudden wave of nausea. He held a hand up to his head just a moment, breathing heavily through his nose, hoping the moment would pass, but he had no such luck. Instead, it only seemed to expand to encompass his entire brain in heavy lead that pressed painfully over it all.

Thankfully, he managed to keep himself from retching. He wasn’t sure his head  _ wouldn’t _ literally explode if he had vomited.

His father turned to give him a sharp look. “What is it n-?” He asked a bit impatiently before his expression turned to one of concern as he took in Harry’s pain and dropped to a knee. “What is wrong?” He asked urgently, worriedly, and it warmed Harry down to his core.  _ Papa does still love me. _

“Headache.” He whispered as his head gave another throb. “But I drank water, and I haven’t been yelling or doing anything that would cause one so I don’t know why.” Maybe he did hurt his head when he tripped this morning rushing down the stairs, though it hadn’t hurt then. Headaches were time delayed sometimes, weren’t they?

“Sometimes there isn’t a reason for a headache.” His papa hummed as he brushed a hand over his muss of curls and Harry almost whimpered under the soothing touch. “I haven’t a potion on hand,” he admitted almost reluctantly. “You’ll have to wait until I can floo home and retrieve one.”

“What about Madam Pomfrey?” He asked hopefully, but he knew the answer already and it was only confirmed with a shake of Papa’s head. Papa wouldn’t have had time yet for he and Professor Slughorn to brew the first batch of potions for the infirmary. That wouldn’t happen until the week leading up to the first, so that the medicines would be as fresh as possible. 

He winced at the ever tightening pain in his skull and gave a little sniff of misery. “I miss home.” He wanted to curl up in his bed, in his nest of stuffed magical animals and a cup of tea laced with the headache potion he needed so badly. Instead, he had to be here at the stupid castle and not have a headache potion until hours from now. The second sniffle was a lot wetter and he realized with embarrassment that he had begun to cry.

Papa winced, too, and pulled him into a gentle hug. “We will stay home this weekend, but it will be the last one until the winter holiday.” He conjured a blanket for Harry, who took it gratefully. “I will bring you some water, as well. Would you like me to darken the corner?”

“That’ll be nice.” He nuzzled into Papa’s chest, not wanting to let him go. The warm familiar smells were comforting and he didn’t want to leave it. Unfortunately, Papa had other ideas and Harry soon found himself at arms length once again.

“I will keep my meeting as short as possible.” Papa promised fervently and Harry almost believed him. However, Papa was meeting to talk about  _ potions _ , and when Papa discussed anything to do with potions, he tended to forget about time completely.

Harry followed his papa into the room, still holding the blanket tightly and found a desk in the darkest corner, and sighed when the light around him dissipated even further with Papa’s spell. He wrapped the blanket over his head to block out as much light and sound as possible and bunched the extra under his head to make a lumpy pillow, preparing himself to nap through the long, long wait. He’d rather sleep through a boring meeting and then stay awake all night than try and entertain himself with a headache of this magnitude.

~~*~*~~

30 August 1991

Minerva’s Office

Hogwarts

~~*~*~~

Severus Snape POV

“You are certain he is out of the castle?”

“For the last time, Severus, I have an elf tracking his movements and I know for a fact that he is out of the country looking for something. Bali will inform me the moment Albus is back on the grounds.” Even in her casual robes and holding a delicate teacup she made an intimidating image that he attempted to ignore. “And I certainly would not tell if you what I just did were I not certain of his whereabouts.”

Severus wasn’t satisfied. Any breath of a hint of a word to Albus about this conversation and all their planning, all the scheming, all of the evidence they had gathered of the headmaster’s descent into madness, it would all be for naught. He continued to press urgently, “what about your office? Are we secure, did you...”

“Severus!” Minerva barked, and he leaned back in his seat and away from her infamous temper. She despised being questioned, and even being questioned by a colleague as close as he wasn’t tolerated. “I have permanent wards as well as a few extra I apply daily, and my house elf checks frequently for any tampering with either. Our conversation is, and has always been, secure. Relax and let us converse before Albus returns!”

He still wasn’t happy, but he took her at her word. She wouldn’t be so adamant if she weren’t certain of the validity of her protections. “Fine. Where shall we begin?”

Apparently, she was satisfied with his acquiesce and leaned back to take a sip of her tea. “First, I wish to apologize for Harry’s letters. I know I had them correct when I sent them, but Albus has his ways of watching the mail.” So she, too, suspected the old man with tampering with Harry’s letters.

“Yet there is not enough information to expedite his removal,” Severus remarked dryly, giving his tea a little swirl and watching the liquid inside spin around. 

She returned a grim smile in like. “Not yet there isn’t. However, I - as well as the others in our confidence - are confident this will be the year we will catch him out and get him the help he desperately needs.” Those included were the same who had agreed to be his tutors, the ones dedicated to the safety and welfare of students over anything else, the ones who also believed Albus Dumbledore was suffering from a form of Wizards Dementia or was at least growing unstable enough to warrant his removal.

He did not like the reminder of the danger his son would now be in, doubly so now that they would be living in the castle full time. “Because of Harry’s attending Hogwarts as a student.” His tone was flat now, and rightfully so. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to take his boy and run, to flee back to their home safely warded from danger. “Because we’re going to use my  _ son _ as bait.”

“He is not being the bait to capture an insane man, Severus! Harry just needs to use his sharp memory so he can relay any sort of things the professors and staff miss that younger minds tend to see.” The teacup in her hand rattled violently as she nearly slammed it on the table. “It is simply only logical that Albus will up the ante so to speak with Harry living in the castle instead of only being here in spurts. We simply have to wait for him to slip up and give himself away.” Her voice dropped and it only further conveyed the seriousness of the matter at hand. “And you know he won’t be the only one targeted, he will be watching those of us who tutored him.”

He knew the dangers, for all of them. He would also be under fire and so will any other staff member who supported him and Harry over Albus, Minerva doubly so with her position of Deputy Headmistress. They  _ have _ discussed the topic before. He just wished the reminder wasn’t for the amount of danger they were going to be in this year.

“So we are in agreement then?” She asked quietly, hesitantly, as if fearing his answer.

Her question brought him back to the conversation much as he wished otherwise. “I don’t like it, but it is the only idea we have that has even a remote chance of working.” He sighed and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Minerva, be honest. Do you think I am foolish to allow Harry to attend with the headmaster still here and as unpredictable as he’s ever been? Should I not have insisted on Harry choosing a different school until a new headmaster is in place?” He had been offered places in Beauxbaton, as well as Ilvermorny in the states, but Harry had been adamant about attending the same school as his family and Severus had been loathe to deny him his desires because he remembered the same fervor he had wanted to attend  _ and _ be a Slytherin like his family before him. 

She took a long moment to respond, and he waited patiently, grateful she was taking the time to think about his question seriously. “I think perhaps it could be considered a tad foolish,” she began slowly, her harsh Scottish lilt softer and measured, almost calculating. “But consider that it might be even more foolish to send him out of your reach where you cannot readily protect him. How much do you plan on revealing to him?”

He relaxed minutely at her assessment, not completely assured but confident that keeping Harry close was still the best option despite the risks. “Most of what we spoke about tonight, as well as a fortnight ago.” He answered firmly. “I need him to stay away from Albus as much as possible, and he obeys better when he has more information rather than less.”

Minerva nodded, her loosely coiled bun bobbing with the movement. “Yes, he is like Lily in that way, isn’t he? Needing all the information before she could make any sort of decision.”

Many a time had he had the same notion that Harry was his mother’s personality with his father’s looks, and it was always gratifying to have someone else make similar observations. “He certainly is.” He took a drink from his glass before tacking on, almost as an afterthought, “You will keep an eye on him? Even if he isn’t in your house?”

Students across the years had shirked from the withering glare she possessed, but he maintained his composure when she aimed it directly at him at the questions. He wanted assurance and would not be afraid of a facial expression in order to have some. “I’ll keep  _ both _ eyes on him, as often as I can. Filius and Pomona are both also prepared to keep an extra close watch on him regardless of his sorting. I am certain he will be just fine.” Her tone told Severus she was certain she knew where the boy would be and he was instantly curious about her thoughts on the matter.

“Just where do you think he will be sorted, Minerva?”

There was a brief moment where she pursed her face in at him, almost disappointingly, as if he should already know her guess. Then she sort of huffed through her nose and looked away. “I know you expect me to say Gryffindor, but if that boy is anything but a Ravenclaw, I’ll eat Godric’s hat.”

He let out a short bark of a laugh. “He is quite studious indeed, isn’t he? I’d also put money on Hufflepuff before Slytherin or Gryffindor, were I a betting man.” The boy had an equal love for his books as well as his friends, and was loyal almost to a fault. He hoped Harry would make the right sort of friends. He couldn’t stand it if Harry was doomed to the same fate as Severus was because he had chosen loyalty to the wrong sort.

“And also if anyone but Albus were in charge of the school?” She asked dryly, knowingly, as if she too hadn’t been growing increasingly worried over the years about her friend and mentor.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hmph. Yes, I won’t put it past him to attempt something bizarre, though I can’t imagine what.” Then he scowled. “Wait, yes. I do actually know what he’ll probably do. He’ll not use Harry’s proper name at the sorting, that’s what.” And then the papers, oh Circe save them all. They won’t have another moment's peace the word leaks out that Harry Snape was actually Harry Potter.

She let out an amused snort. “You know very well I myself read that list, so you have no fear there.” An arched eyebrow accompanied her mischievous gaze and he turned his attention to a very interesting bit of peeling wallpaper. “I would worry more about Ronald Weasley spilling the beans to everyone he can.”

The young boy was rather hopeless at keeping a secret. It had only been due to Lucius and connections to the ministry that had protected them up until this point. It was only a matter of time before everyone in the school knew the little Snape boy they had all known and loved was the Potter heir. He prayed the student’s love didn’t turn to scorn or contempt for either of them. He enjoyed his classes, he relished teaching the eager potions master hopefuls, and Harry had always viewed the student body as part of his family. To have that side of the family turn on him, it would be unbearable for his son.

But Harry’s biological family name was not the only way Albus could throw a wrench in things. “No, I can only fear that he’ll attempt to interfere somewhere else.” Despite the worry of madness, the man was frightfully intelligent and observant. It would not surprise Severus in the slightest if Albus had a few tricks up his sleeve to thwart any sort of intervention against him. It was why they had to act so cautiously.

He only hoped he was doing all he could to protect Harry, that the heir rings and the bracelet of protection and all the staff’s watchfulness would be enough. 

And may Circe have mercy on any who would dare cause Harry harm, for Severus would not show any.


	4. Chapter 3: September First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this, twice in a month? Italics during the sorting are the words exchanged silently between Harry and the Hat. No one else hears what is said.

~~*~*~~

1 September 1991

King’s Cross

London

~~*~*~~

10:55 am

~~*~*~~

Harry was fiddling with the wand he had gotten at Diagon Alley as he sat alone on the train. He was waiting for Draco to finish saying bye to Estelle. He didn’t like the wand all that much, the one he had made custom at Rue Claudel felt far more natural in his hand, but Papa said he should still get to know the one that had chosen him at Ollivanders just in case he ever needed it. He glared at the stick of holly with a phoenix feather hidden deep inside and stood to shove it back into his trunk The weird old man’s words still made him all shivery when he looked at the wand and he desperately didn’t want any sort of a wand that connected him to the Dark Lord, even if they just shared a core from the same bird. Despite Papa’s reassurances that he was in no danger of ever becoming like the Dark Lord, Harry wasn’t about to take any chances. The less that connected them, the better. It was bad enough he was the subject of a stupid prophecy.

A loud bang from the train door being slammed open had him nearly hitting his head on the luggage rack as it slammed open. “Hello, Harry! Sorry for startling you!” It was Basil, accompanied by his sister Anise, and Harry idly wondered where Pansy was if her older siblings were already on the train. Taking a glance out the window showed Pansy pulling Blaise towards the train while Blaise was shaking his head and pointing first to Draco and then to the window Harry was at. He waved at his two friends, who waved back before frantically pointing at Draco. Harry took that to mean that they would collect Draco and meet him inside soon. He could deal with that.

The sixteen-year-old plonked himself on the seat, pulling Harry down with him, and rubbed his knuckles against the top of Harry’s head and snagging hair out of his carefully styled ponytail. “Cut that out!” Harry scowled and ducked out of the painful motion, smoothing back the pulled out strands of hair frantically. “Draco already did my hair once today and I don’t want to go through that again!” His friend was ruthless, and it was only Uncle Lucius stepping in that prevented the horrid hair gel Draco loved from being used in his own hair. If Draco saw hair was out of place, Harry wasn’t certain he could escape again.

“I’m sorry for Basil, Harry.” Anise smiled softly, the fourteen-year-old far more demure and quiet than either of her other two siblings, and Harry returned the smile. “He wishes this year was his seventh already.”

“I just don’t want to have to choose my project yet!” The boy moaned, flinging his hands over his eyes and throwing himself back against the seat dramatically. “I can’t decide between writing about how to use Wizarding History in order to move forward into the modern century or if I want to do the transfiguration project McGonnegal keeps pressing me to do because I want to do both!”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he thought. “What is your idea for the project?”

“How to make transfigurations last longer.” He answered immediately, eyes lighting up with excitement. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to mesh the two, but I can’t quite figure out how.”

Harry took a moment to think and hoped the older boy wouldn’t take offense at his suggestion. He never knew with Basil if he’d just dismiss him as a know-it-all twirp. “You could always start with the history of transfiguration, and why it’s always been known as a temporary solution to a problem. And then you could get into how the methods you’re trying to develop will help jump wizarding society into the modern era so we can compete with the muggles and their technology.”

Thankfully, he just seemed amused at the suggestion. “I’m planning on using wizarding technology. Father would not like it if I wrote about muggles, Harry.” Basil snorted and Harry rolled his eyes. “He’s very supportive of you, but that’s about as far as his tolerance goes.”

“Does he not know about your little muggle-born girlfriend yet?” Anise asked dryly, and Basil ducked his head, cheeks red and flamed, choosing not to answer his sister and looked over at Harry instead.

“You don’t have to exclusively write about muggles to include some of their technology as the base of your ideas,” Harry said softly, choosing not to touch on the subject about the idea of muggles somehow being less because they lacked magic. There would be time later to argue about that, he didn’t need to start a fight on the first day of school.

Maybe tomorrow.

“I guess so.” Basil said slowly, almost reluctantly, before asking, “do you really think McGonnegal will let me combine both subjects?” 

Harry shrugged lightly. “It never hurts to ask, at least that’s what I’ve learned. Especially with Professor Minnie.”

The two elder Parkinson children stared at him gormlessly for a long moment before Anise started to giggle almost uncontrollably. “I’d pay galleons to see her face when you call her that in class the first time.” She managed to gasp out between giggles.

Harry snorted and his own giggles formed at the mental image. “She’s already warned me a couple of times that she won’t hesitate to give me detention if I’m too informal, but that since I’ve spent years in tutoring calling her that, she’ll give me some grace.” Thankfully. Papa had told him the same thing, and so had all the other tutors he had had over the years, so he’d have time to relearn monikers. It was going to be very difficult to remember that these people were now his professors, not his private tutors, and it wouldn’t do to slip up and be disrespectful of their position.

The two siblings just laughed harder, Basil nearly falling off the bench in his mirth. When he finally recovered enough to sit back up, he brushed at his short-cropped hair and shook his head at Harry. “You have the entire staff wrapped around your finger.” 

“I do not.” Harry immediately argued back. “I get in trouble if I’m caught, like everyone else.”

“You just have to be caught first.”

He just looked away with a little smirk. He _ was _ very good at not getting caught in the rare bits of mischief he pursued. “Really, you only need to worry about Papa...I mean Professor Snape.” He made a face at the name but continued. “He’s the one who has to approve of your project plan.”

“Sure, jump back into school.” Basil shook a finger in Harry’s face and he swatted at it to get it away. “Where’s your snake?” 

Harry scowled at the mention of his beloved companion. “Papa made me keep her in my room in our quarters. He said since she isn’t one of the listed three, I can’t technically have her at school yet. So she “belongs” to him this year.” It was absolutely not okay, he hated that he couldn’t have her wherever he was, but he could admit that it probably wouldn’t look good if he was allowed an unusual pet other first years weren’t allowed.

“Rude.” The older boy huffed and jostled Harry’s shoulder. “I say hide her and bring her to classes anyway.”

“Basil!” Anise sounded appalled at the suggestion. “Stop encouraging him to break rules that could get him in detention, or Gemma _ banned _ altogether!” She was definitely a stickler for the rules. He bet she could be a prefect next year if she applied for the position. She was definitely responsible enough. 

“She wouldn’t be banned!” Basil argued. “Harry would be given a pat on the head and told he could have her, after all.”

Harry had to speak up before they got into an even bigger argument that drew wands. “No, Papa said she would stay with him through my second year, too, if I was caught with her out of our quarters. But I can have her on the weekends, as long as she’s not seen at meals or when I’m walking down the halls.”

The two Parkinson siblings gave him expressions of displeasure at the restrictions. But the door slammed open again before either could make a remark to reveal his three best friends, red-cheeked and breathing hard. “Get out of here!” Pansy whined as soon as she caught sight of her older siblings. “This is our car, not yours!”

The pair snorted and rolled their eyes, almost as if they had practiced the motion before. “As you wish, little Pan-Pan.” Basil crooned in a simpering tone that had both Anise and Pansy glaring at him. He just sighed again. “I hate you both. I am going to go find Marcus, anyway.” He stood and the trio in the doorway tumbled in so he could leave.

Anise scrambled after him, stopping only to give her little sister a hug. “I’ll come to check on you once you’ve settled in tonight, Pansy.” 

“It’s like you’re sure I’ll be a Slytherin or something.”

“Like you have a sliver of any other house in you.” She called out over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her.

“Oi! I could be a Ravenclaw, you know!” Pansy shouted back angrily but the door had blocked most of her retort and she rolled her eyes before diving at Harry. “It’s so good to see you!” The girl squealed and he returned her enthusiastic hug with a grin. The quartet was finally together for the first time since Diagon Alley a month ago.

“I wish you guys could visit Hogwarts when I’m stuck there,” Harry complained as he separated from his leech of a friend and accepted Blaise’s far more sedate and brief embrace. Draco was the last one he gave a hug, and it was immediately interrupted with the first of many train whistles to declare final boarding. Eagerly, they all scrambled to get a spot next to the window to give their families one last goodbye.

Draco and Pansy were fighting over the one bench while Blaise propped up on his knees on the other bench between Harry and the window, watching as his mum and older brother vanished through the barrier. The train to France would be leaving soon, and they needed to get themselves to the other platform. He knew the moment Draco saw Uncle Lucius and Auntie Cissa when he started waving frantically, nearly jumping in his excitement. He could see Molly standing a bit away, waving in a manner that eerily mimicked Draco’s, with a sulkily waving Ginny next to her, her disappointment in not being allowed on the train clearly written all over her pouty face. Pansy caught sight of her own parents as she started calling out her farewells loudly despite the closed window. Harry made sure to wave to each one of his honorary aunts or uncles equally, wishing it had been Papa could have stuck around long enough to wave good-bye to, as well, but he knew Papa had his duties to attend to.

A moment later, the final whistle declaring departure sounded and they all fell back in their seats, breathless and bright-eyed with excitement. “Oh, I can’t believe it’s finally here!” Draco bubbled out, his hands quivering on his thighs as he gripped them tightly before giving out a little squeal. “We’re finally going to Hogwarts.” Harry wasn’t surprised to see the state his friend was in, he’d been practically vibrating for three days in his anticipation of the 1st of September. “Do you know how we get to the castle? Father wouldn’t tell me!”

Harry’s arms crossed as he pouted, slouching back in his seat. “Papa put a modified Fidelis charm on me so I couldn’t tell anyone. He said the experience is too important to risk me telling you.” Not to mention that he only knew because he had heard years upon years of excited firsties talking about the boats and the castle lit up against the night sky. He hoped this year the sky would be clear enough to see the stars. It hadn’t been raining when he and Papa had apparated from the point just outside the gates, but it was also Scotland and who knew what the weather would choose to do?

True to form, Draco immediately took umbrage. “That’s not fair!” He was nearly hollering, and Harry just poked him in the side.

“It would be less fair to ruin the first day for everyone because I told you and you can’t keep your mouth shut.” Harry retorted and Draco could only respond with a severely wrinkled nose of annoyance, but he couldn’t say anything because all four of them knew Harry was absolutely correct. Draco would not be able to help himself from talking about it.

~~*~*~~

12:45 pm

~~*~*~~

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” 

Draco was the first to leap for his money pouch, with the other three quickly following suit. “Yes, thank you.”

There was a lot of speaking over one another and after a near collision with the cart when Pansy tripped over her robes and collided with Blaise, the trolley witch had to back out of the doorway until the four composed themselves.

“I apologize, Ma’am.” Blaise said respectfully, a little head bow accompanying the apology. 

“Yes, I didn’t mean to fall!” Pansy nearly wailed and the woman merely smiled patiently.

“Not to worry, you’re certainly not the first to trip because I showed up!” She chuckled goodmanneredly and motioned to her cart of treats and lunch items. “Order up now, if you please, I shan't return back this way. Only one pass through.”

Harry had his lunch packed by Papa, along with some dark chocolates from Uncle Remus, but he really did want to try some of the treats he hadn’t really had a chance to before. Papa didn’t provide any, and all of his surrogate aunts and uncles knew better than to offer any. He quickly chose a small box of Berties Every Flavor Beans at Pansy's suggestion, as well as a cauldron cake and a pumpkin pastie. 

Draco, of course, had one of absolutely every sweet and nothing of substance for lunch, and Harry knew he wouldn’t make it through even a third of what was there. Blaise stuck to his licorice wands while Pansy was already digging through her giant box of Every Flavor, looking for her favorite flavors - or the ones that mimicked the colors.

Harry smiled at the sight of his best friends content and happy, and took a small bite of the pastry first, spewing crumbs as he laughed at Draco's face when he dropped the entire contents of a box of jellied slugs down his front. 

~~*~*~~

2:15 pm

~~*~*~~

“Oh come on, you’re cheating!”

“How can one _ cheat _ at exploding snap, Blaise?”

“I don’t know, but you’re a Malfoy, so I bet you’d find a way.”

“That’s low, especially seeing the rumors that go around all about your mummy.”

“My mum doesn’t cheat on her partners.”

“No, she just murders them for their money.”

“Panse, there’s no proof of that.”

“Please, Harry, like there are any other explanations for each one of their disappearances.”

“Guys, leave my mum and her husbands out of this!”

“Yeah, can we do something quieter now?”

“Harry, you’re such a Ravenclaw sometimes I can’t believe you’re going to be stuck in Hufflepuff.”

_ “Shut up, Draco.” _

~~*~*~~

3:30 pm

~~*~*~~

“Excuse me, have you happened to see a toad?”

Draco’s face clearly said that he regretted opening the demanding knock at their car door. On the other side had been Neville, the Longbottom Heir he hadn’t really met before, Ron, and a very bushy-haired girl with an impatient tone and already in her school uniform. Harry knew the general irritation of all his friends stemmed from the rather rude way she had interrupted without so much as an introduction or an if-you-please.

“I haven’t,” Harry said when no one else seemed willing to answer. “But I can keep a lookout for it.”

“Thank you.” She said and went to turn away before her eyes narrowed. Head cocked, she introduced herself. “I’m Hermione Granger.” It seemed she did have some manners after all.

“Harry Snape.” His response was automatic and triggered his friends into action.

“Blaise Zabini.” He bowed his dark head over her hand and she pulled it back slowly, blinking like she had no idea what to make of what just happened.

Pansy didn’t look like she wanted to respond, but her social niceties obviously won out when she bit out a terse, “Pansy Parkinson.”

Draco drew himself up to his full height, which was still rather scrawny if you asked Harry, and sneered out in a very Lucius-like manner, “Draco Malfoy.”

She eyed them all cautiously. “Pleasure.” She made to speak again but was stopped by a sharp elbow from Ron. “What?”

Harry feared he was about to be revealed, or that Ron was going to make yet another junior death eater joke, but he just gave Harry an uncertain look and quietly reminded her that they had promised Neville to find the toad. The Granger girl jumped and pulled on the two boy’s arms to dash off to the next door.

“What was _ that _ about?” Pansy demanded as soon as the trio in their doorway left and the door was once again closed.

Harry shrugged. “Maybe Ron is realizing I wouldn’t be friends with death eaters?”

“More like he’s biding his time until the sorting to decide exactly how to treat you,” Draco muttered under his breath and Harry couldn’t help but silently agree. 

“That doesn’t explain why he didn’t take the opportunity to out Harry as a Potter!” Pansy argued. 

"He won't need to if you do it first!" Harry hissed, effectively quieting her back down.

“Sorry.” She whispered and Harry shrugged again, jumping up on the seat to pull out his wizarding Jenga set.

“Let’s just play another game.” He didn’t want to worry about what Ronald Weasley would or wouldn’t do right now. It was bad enough it would happen sooner or later regardless. He’d rather enjoy the rest of the train ride._ Please, please, please let me be in any other house than Gryffindor _ . He couldn't bear it if he had to share a dorm with _ Ronald Weasley _ for seven years.

~~*~*~~

5:00 pm

~~*~*~~

Draco looked like a cat curled up on the seat, but he snored louder than a bear and would attack faster than one if Harry attempted to wake him up. Pansy was nestled against the window, bouncing a little as the train rocked, but her charmed pillow prevented her from waking. Blaise was sleeping with his arms closed over his chest, sitting straight up next to Pansy. Harry was enjoying the silence by reading ahead in his textbooks.

Well, he would be reading if he wasn’t ruminating over what was to come.

The sorting was only three or so hours away now. The very sorting that would determine so much about the rest of his school years.

He so desperately wanted to be in Slytherin, because he knew that’s where all three of his best friends would end up. They had grand plans for how they would rule the school - by their third year because of course, they wouldn’t be able to expect to be able to take over in a mere 9 months. Not to mention their second year would be too full of dominating Quidditch to focus on school domination. None of that could happen if Harry were sorted elsewhere. He couldn’t bear to lose the only friends he had ever known.

A snuffle had him looking to see Draco stretching and turning without opening his eyes and Harry felt his stomach give a harsh twist. Draco seemed so sure he’d be in Slytherin. Or Hufflepuff, but Harry was pretty sure that one was a joke. 

Despite all the reassurances from all three of his friends, Harry knew that reality would always be harder to face than mere hypotheticals. When it came down to it, would Draco hate him if he wasn’t in Slytherin but if he were instead a dreaded Gryffindor? Would Blaise and Pansy?

Would he hate himself?

~~*~*~~

7:30 pm

~~*~*~~

Harry gave his wrinkled robes a shake and the spell woven into the fabric instantly smoothed the fabric back down. Satisfied they were as neat as he could make them, he quickly pulled them on over his head and wrapped the plain black tie around his neck to tie it. In an hour, the tie would reflect his house, but for now all that adorned it was the Hogwarts crest representing all four houses. 

“It really is too bad I couldn’t convince Father to buy me fancier robes.”

Draco sounded muffled through his own robes bunched around his head and Harry tried not to snicker at his friend’s struggles to don his uniform. “Pansy will be done and knocking on the door before you’re ready.” Harry heard Blaise warn, presumably already done dressing as he was sitting on the bench he had vacated before.

“Pansy takes longer than I do, so I think I’m fine.” Draco retorted, only to jump when a loud rapping startled him.

Sure enough, the girl in question had returned from changing in the bathroom, and Harry could hear her annoyance clearly. “Draco, you are the most pretentious prat I’ve ever met!” She hollered through the door and this time Harry couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the affronted look on Draco’s face. “I’m coming in if you’re dressed!”

“Don’t you dare!” Draco screeched despite having all his clothing on and the door opened despite his declaration when Blaise stood and opened the door to allow Pansy entrance.

Harry tried to ignore their ever-present bickering and double-checked his wand holster that his beautiful custom black walnut wand was firmly held in place. Regardless of his house, he couldn't wait to see it swirling with the colors of his house. Would he be silver and green like he wanted, or would he be doomed to see gold and red kaleidoscoped together for seven years?

He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out, but he didn’t really have much of a choice. _ It isn’t too much to ask the hat for Slytherin, is it? _

Pansy’s laughter, Draco’s shrieking, and Blaise’s calm presence throughout it all. He was going to lose it all, he just knew it. 

Maybe he should have gone to Beauxbaton after all.

~~*~*~~

8:00 pm

~~*~*~~

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years ter meh!” Hagrid could be heard bellowing over the excited chattering of returning students, anxious uncertain whimpers from first years, and the ever-present noises exuding from the train. 

Harry quickly shoved at Draco’s arm to direct him in the correct direction. He was rewarded with a sharp glare and annoyed huff. But before he could say anything, Hagrid called out again. “Leave yer trunks, Firs’ years, and come on ter me!”

His arm jerked as Pansy quickly joined them together at the elbow, yanking Blaise along with her. Draco’s fingers closed around Harry’s wrist and they were swept into the little cloud of eleven-year-olds floating along to meeting the very giant Groundskeeper. He was illuminated by the lantern held high in the air, and as they drew closer, Harry could see the little boats bobbing in the gentle lapping of the lake.

Despite knowing the boats were charmed against capsizing, he still had a little quiver of fear whenever facing open water such as the lake. “Four ter a boat, only four.” Hagrid was instructing and Harry quickly found himself sitting next to Draco and in front of Pansy and Blaise. His knuckles grew white against the edge of the boat and he tried to keep his breathing steady.

He’d been looking forward to seeing the castle like this for the first time, he wasn’t going to let his irrational fears keep him from enjoying this.

He hoped.

His stomach lurched with the boat as Hagrid came to tap at their boat as his own passed by them. The ride would only take about ten minutes, at least according to those he had overheard talking about it, but it was still going to be ten minutes too long for his liking. He heard the Granger girl saying something bossily to Ron and Neville and a boy who had to be a muggleborn if the fear in his eyes was any indication, but Harry couldn’t quite hear what she was saying.

The sight of his friends faces helped keep him calm because they reflected the same excitement and joy he was feeling himself. And when the castle finally came into view, most of his discomfort was forgotten at the brilliant sight illuminating the dark sky, tall and imposing, and Harry felt a slight comfort knowing his papa was there, that because Papa was there, he was coming _ home _.

All he had to survive now was the sorting.

_ Please, please let me be in Slytherin. _

~~*~*~~

Great Hall

Hogwarts

8:45 pm

~~*~*~~

Harry felt like he was going to have a panic attack. His stomach was in knots, intestines twisting and tangling until they pinched and seemed to be holding onto little knives with each bend, intent on repeatedly stabbing him over and over until his gut was in agony. The stool was hard under his bum and the hat itchy and smelly on his head and he hated that the thing could see into his mind. _ “Hmm, you are an intriguing one.” _

He was entirely too uncomfortable to bother with any sort of pleasantries. “_ Put me in Slytherin, please.” _ It was a long shot, but if he could convince the Headmaster to finally use his correct last name, maybe telling the hat what he wanted would work.

The hat sounded amused. _ “Ah, yes, well while Albus himself might be lenient and allow me to agree, the Headmaster wants you elsewhere. I hope to see you again soon, Mr. Snape.” _

Harry frowned at the bizarre words but they were pushed from his mind as the hat shouted out through the rip in his brim, “Gryffindor!” 

The lion table erupted into cheers and hollers yet Harry heard none of it. His hearing was dulled by a low roaring that was his severe disappointment in being proved _ correct _, that he was doomed to a life he didn’t want. He quickly met Draco’s eyes from the Slytherin table and found all he wanted to do was cry, especially when Draco’s eyes matched the despair he was feeling in his heart. He slid off the stool before Professor McGonnegal had to touch his shoulder to remind him and swallowed hard as he straightened his shoulders and made his way to his loudly cheering house, feeling like he was on the way to his inevitable death. The twins beamed at him and jostled his shoulder as he sat down in one of the few open spaces along the bench. Harry fought back a grimace and resolutely ignored them until they took the hint and moved away from him. 

When _ Weasley Ronald, _unfortunately, sat next to and grinned at Harry, he barely resisted the desire to slam his head onto the table. “See, I knew you’d be with me! You’re a Gryffindor, through and through!” It seemed his house placement had been the cue Ron needed to latch himself to Harry’s side.

Great. He wondered how long it would be now for Ron to blab to everyone the truth about the youngest Snape. He ignored the Headmaster standing and giving his customary speech. It would be full of weird warnings and even weirder words before they'd all be allowed to eat. 

Instead, he took the time to look around at the expressions on the older student’s faces because they told Harry he wasn’t the only one confused about his house placement. He had been a Gryffindor for less than five minutes and he was already getting suspicious looks from almost all those who had known him for at least a year already, and why not? None of them really had an idea that he was the Potter heir, they had always seen him as Professor Snape’s kid. They had all seen him growing up at Hogwarts and he had long been the subject of polls predicting his house and not once had Gryffindor won the unofficial contest. There was no logical reason for the hat to have put him here. He still didn’t think he exemplified _ any _of the qualifications of a Gryffindor.

He was startled out of his thoughts when the near silence of the students exploded into excited chatter and immediately, food began disappearing from platters and onto the children's plates. When Ron jostled his side in an effort to reach for the plate of chicken, Harry’s returning smile to the newest Gryffindor Weasley's garbled apology was polite yet chilled, a look he had learned young from Narcissa, even though he knew Ron wouldn’t understand. He didn’t, he just grinned back and patted Harry’s shoulder before turning to talk to his brothers while shoveling food into his ever flapping mouth.

Harry, on the other hand, picked at his food, appetite nonexistant. He resolutely refused to meet his Papa’s eyes even though he could feel them on him the entire time they were eating, choosing instead to look over at Professor Quirrell. He had been dreading Defense class up until seeing him over the summer, not looking forward to yet another professor who may or may not know a thing about what they’re talking about. Professor Quirrell had been gone a year traveling, surely he would have interesting stories to tell for class.

When Professor Quirrell smiled at him before angling to speak to his father, Harry moved his gaze down the staff table, mentally calling each one of his previous tutors by their professional title to help reinforce the new changes he’d have to remember. Once done with that, his eye moved again to find Draco at the Slytherin table once again staring intently at him, his own plate just as full as Harry’s. Blaise and Pansy were flanking him and eating enthusiastically and Harry felt a twist of pain in his heart. His three best friends were together, and he was alone in a sea of red lined robes and boisterous conversation, though Draco wasn’t as happy as...no, there he goes, laughing along with something Blaise had said. Something Harry _ should _ be hearing and laughing along with, too. 

When he heard over the din of happy students speculation about which of the first years was the Potter scion, or if Potter had come at all, he had to fight the urge to pull his droopy pointy hat over his scar and drawing unwanted attention to himself. It was only a matter of time before Ron said something, Molly Weasley had made that clear when she refused to allow Papa to do the same to him to prevent him from blabbing, stating that she trusted her son.

Not even overhearing Seamus Finnegan, one of the new first years, attempting to turn his water into rum could ease any of his internal or physical discomforts, especially as he watched Draco, Pansy, and Blaise put their heads together, talking furiously. Then Headmaster Dumbledore started his after-dinner speech and he wasn’t spared another glance by his friends, focused they were on each other or the old man speaking.

_ It’s already starting _ . _ They’ve already forgotten me. _

Harry felt suddenly and utterly alone.

~~*~*~~

Slytherin Common Room

10:15 pm

~~*~*~~

Severus Snape POV

“Are there any other questions?” His sharp eyes scanned the new first years, searching for any signs of a student being too shy to speak up. When nothing struck him as odd or out of place with the shaking heads and nervous glances, he dismissed them to the prefects with stern instructions to visit his office sometime in the next week and swooped his way out of the room.

He needed to get to Harry. The poor child was probably distraught at his placement due to the months and months of anxiety about it not to mention the prospect of sleeping in a new bed, in a new room, would most assuredly cause even further anxiety in his son. Of course, the way the child had completely avoided his gaze after the sorting was another huge sign that Harry could be nearly inconsolable.

The Fat Lady sat snoring in her portrait until Severus woke her with a clearing throat. “Excuse me, could you please inform a prefect to retrieve Harry?”

She blinked blearily at him, having been startled awake before she started to scold him. “You are a professor! You know it is far too late for first-year students to be out of bed, especially the very first night!” However, she walked her way through her portrait and Severus knew she was heading to the prefects rooms to do as he asked.

He wasn’t long before she returned, and only to go back to sleep after giving him another reproachful look. His heart broke when his son stepped through the portrait and refused to meet his eyes. “Harry, we knew this could happen.” But had hoped it wouldn’t, he tacked on silently. Personally, he had been leaning towards Ravenclaw over the last year, but now that the sorting was passed, it was time for Harry to accept his house and integrate. Even if it were Gryffindor.

“But I don’t want to be here!” Harry finally let the tears fall. “Papa, I don’t like Gryffindor tower! The entire house is too loud! And the twins are there, and Ron is there, and Charlie’s gone and I only have Percy now! It’s like being at the Burrow. But all the time! I…” He choked on his sobs. “I wanted to be with Draco, Blaise, and Pansy. We were going to be the Slytherin Marauders! But now they’re together, and I’m alone in a separate house, and our houses hate each other, and I’m going to lose my best friends!” 

“Harry, the houses do not hate each other. Especially not since you released Gemma Farley on Percy their first year. You will not lose your friends.” He let Harry cry into his chest, hoping he would cry it all out. He had had a long couple of weeks, and to be faced with a disappointment of this level was too much for the boy. 

And then, in a tiny sad voice he could barely hear, Harry whispered, “And I don’t want you to hate me because I’m a stupid dunderheaded Gryffindor like James.”

_Oh, Circe, not this_ again.

He immediately pressed a kiss into Harry’s hair, his arms tightening minutely. His poor boy, the anxieties he held were sometimes too much for an eleven-year-old. “Didn’t I already tell you I could never hate you, no matter what House you were sorted in? We had this same talk this morning, Harry.” He carefully didn’t mention the countless times they had had the same conversation over the summer and smoothed a hand over the tied back mess of dark hair and waited for the sobs to subside. “Do you need me to assign another essay on what qualities the Houses share?” He tried to interject some humor only to have his son sniffle sadly and droop even further.

He felt a bit of relief when Harry spoke against his papa’s chest. “Percy is great, and so’s Emily, but...” His voice trailed off and Severus understood why. He remembered being a scared first year, however vaguely, as well as the anxieties held about being in a completely new place surrounded by new people. “I wish Minnie -” here Severus let out a little cough at the slip before gently pushing the boy back to hold him at arm's length and Harry flushed. “I mean, Professor McGonagall. I wish she’d come to talk to us, too.” He muttered, hands shoved now deep into the sleeves of his robe while refusing to meet Severus’ gaze.

He let out a soft sigh, head falling forward slightly to look down at the boy. “Harry, you know very well why she can’t right now.” 

The boy had an immediate rebuttal. “But she could have at least had one of the seventh year prefects talk to us, instead of just Percy and Emily. Someone older who knows more and has more...experience.” Harry wouldn’t meet his eyes and Severus decided that his phrasing meant that the orientation went a bit awry. Perhaps the younger Weasley gave his brother problems. Or it could have been Emily. She wasn’t well known for her patience when under immense stress and certainly wasn’t one Severus would have put in as the other fifth-year Prefect for Gryffindor but what was done was done.

The potions master mulled over his son’s words. “I agree, that could have been done. Though all of the houses have their prefects make the initial orientation speeches. Only Pomona and myself visit the common rooms the first night.” Severus admitted slowly. There were a lot of solutions to the problem, older prefects or even other Gryffindor professors such as Remus Lupin could provide the little first years with an orientation to set the tone for the rest of their tenure. But, the woman was also extraordinarily busy with everything on her plate and he felt the need to remind his son just what was at stake. “Remember her role this year.” Being deputy headmistress _ and _ head of Gryffindor _ and _ being a highly sought-after master in transfiguration while _ also _trying to find the evidence to remove the headmaster was entirely too much to do already.

The little frown only deepened before it relaxed and a little light of understanding flickered in his gaze. Severus knew the boy was thinking similarly to himself. The deputy headmistress was probably in the most danger from the headmaster’s irregularities this year, other than Harry if they were correct in their assumptions that the bizarre manipulations would only escalate this year now that Harry was in school.

“Do you wish to tell me what exactly transpired to bring this on?”

“Ronald Weasley and his big fat mouth.” Harry scowled and despite the seriousness of the situation, Severus took a moment to appreciate that it was his scowl the child wore. “He couldn’t even wait for us to make it to the common room to tell everyone that it wasn't a surprise that I was a Gryffindor, that it didn’t matter who raised me, my parents were both Gryffindors and heroes so I would have no choice but to be as well. It’s the same stuff he’s said for years, only this time it was in a large hallway that echoed.”

“Ah. I can see how well that would go over with your peers.” Severus agreed with a soft exhale. “And I’m certain it didn’t take long for them to piece together just who your biological parents are?”

“No one cares, at least not who've said anything to me.” Harry sighed and rubbed at his face. “I still bet there’s an article tomorrow.” Severus wouldn’t doubt it, not if the young Weasley had blurted out said information in the hallways where sound could - and would - easily carry. But, what was done was done. However, his heart broke when the boy shakily added, “I want to go home.”

He wanted to go home, too. He wanted to whisk them both away from all that troubled them, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know how to respond to his son except to give Harry another hug, hoping to transfer enough love and support through it to help his boy get through the next few days. It would be an adjustment for all of them, there could be no doubt about that. And as soon as Harry was back in his dorm, he had a quick firecall to make to his very dear friend Lucius. While it would be foolish to think it could be delayed for forever, perhaps the outing could be delayed just a day longer.


	5. Chapter 4: Of Friendships and Classes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THREE IN ONE MONTH WHAT IS THIS?! I’ve decided to include the day of the week in each little section heading, just to highlight when in the week the scene is happening. I think it adds to some clarification, especially for my tracking the days haha. Also, pay attention to the section heading for if there is a POV change. I will rarely ever stray from Severus being the alternate POV but if there is a reason for it, I will make it clear it’s not Harry or Severus.

~~*~*~~

2 September 1991

Monday

Gryffindor Dormitory

~~*~*~~

It was easier to slip silently out of the shared dorm than it was for him to sleep the night before. Based on the color of blue outside and lack of any real sunlight, he figured it was about 5:30. Which meant he had plenty of time to meditate and shower and be in the great hall before any of the others woke for breakfast, he just had to find a quiet spot he wouldn’t be disturbed. He couldn't risk an older Gryffindor finding him, or one of the girls. He wouldn't put it past that Hermione Granger to be awake as early as he was, and he didn’t want to be badgered with questions on what he was doing. 

He’d barely known her a day and it was readily apparent that she was going to be another Dominique - a blathering know-it-all who always thought they knew more than anyone else. True, he could only had yesterday to base his decision on, but after hearing her claim “In Hogwarts, A History, it states that…” no fewer than six times throughout the sorting and dinner, not to mention the amount of questions and clarifications she had asked for when Percy and Emily had gone over the House rules, he figured that was the best assessment he'd ever have. As he scanned the common room to ensure it was empty, he vowed to avoid her as much as humanly possible.

The Fat Lady was sitting snoozing quietly as Harry slipped out of her frame, gleeful to have escaped without bringing any of his new roommates with him. It wasn’t that his first night in Gryffindor tower was horrible. It was just that three out of the four other boys had insisted on staying up most of the night talking about the food and what classes they might have first tomorrow. There were five of them in total: himself, Ron Weasley, the Longbottom Heir Neville, a muggle-born named Dean Thomas, and a half-blood from Ireland Seamus Finnegan. 

Ron, he wanted to avoid for obvious reasons. Seamus was the boy he heard trying to create rum during the opening feast, and last night a third-year spell he was attempting nearly caught his bed on  _ fire _ , so clearly he wasn’t a qualified candidate for close comradery, either. Neville and Dean, he wasn’t so sure about but only because he had a hard time getting a good read on either of them. They were both rather quiet, Neville far more round-faced and bookish than the rest of the first years, and Dean he only guessed was into cricket due to the one poster he had pinned by his bed. He had barely said anything to the others other than to introduce himself and bid them good night, so Harry had nothing to base any sort of conversation on. He had no idea really what cricket was about save for bats and balls and a vague similarity to quidditch, and Neville he couldn’t really even understand through the shy stuttering and general awkwardness so it would take longer to assess what sort of friendship he could foster with either of them if he even decided to attempt at all.

He was headed to the perfect hideout he had found years ago. He once used the area as a hidden play place, or a spot to spy out over the grounds as it had the perfect vantage point that could see both the forbidden forest and the quidditch pitch. It was one of the many alcoves that were hidden under thick draperies and to his best estimation resided directly under the owlery.  While before he would use this place as a place to study or play, today he was going to use the alcove to meditate with being disturbed. He figured it was as close as he could get to being outside in nature without breaking the rule for first years about being outside on the grounds before sunrise. He needed to sort through his thoughts and his emotions before facing the day.

~~*~*~~

Great Hall

~~*~*~~

There were only a handful of students scattered at the tables, most of them sixth or seventh years if his first pass visual pass-through was any indication, and only Professor Flitwick was currently sitting up at the staff table. Harry wondered if his papa would be in soon and then decided it wasn’t important right now. He had a far more pressing matter to address: finding his friends and finding out if they  _ were _ still friends. 

He looked over at the Slytherin table and even though he didn’t spot any of the three he was searching for, he did grin when he saw the Slytherin fifth year prefect Gemma sipping at a small cup of what he assumed was tea. She waved at Harry when she caught sight of him over the lip of the cup and he made his way to her. He gave her a hug and sat next to her and she smiled softly at him. “I’m sorry you’re not with me, Harry, but I’m glad you have Perce.”

She and him both. Percy was currently the only bright spot in the tower. His displeasure must have shown on his face because she started to laugh. “Oh, come on. You are going to have fun. I know you don’t feel like it now, but you will find a home in Gryffindor.”

At her words, his eyes felt hot and he had to fight back tears. She had a knack for being able to hit just exactly what was wrong. “I know.” He whispered hoarsely. “I just...I hope that…” He couldn’t finish his sentence and she smiled again.

“I’ll have you know I happened to see a certain white-blond boy this morning looking quite like he was sleepwalking his way to the showers.” He didn’t doubt her words, he had seen far too often Draco’s first steps after waking and it was always extremely comical to watch. 

She patted his shoulder and then looked towards the door, her eyes lighting up. Harry looked as well and saw Percy standing there looking sleepy behind his glasses, glancing around as if searching for someone. “Mind if I talk to you later? I promised Perce we’d eat breakfast together.”

He shook his head and watched her cross the room and leap at Percy when his back was turned, latching onto him like a sloth. Percy immediately started spinning and scowling but also laughing until she slid off and tugged him over to where Oliver was already sitting at the Gryffindor table. He hoped he and his friends were still that close when they were fifth-years.

He looked to his right when he felt the bench dip next to him and saw a widely yawning yet immaculately dressed Draco rubbing at his eyes and his heart leaped in joy. He should have known that neither Gemma nor Draco had been lying, that Harry’s house placement truly wouldn’t matter, because why else would Draco be up right now if not to see Harry? “Good morning. How’d you know I’d be awake this early?”

Draco let out a tired snort and stretched, groaning at the strain. “Please, anyone with a quarter of a brain would be wanting to avoid all the Weasleys and the rest of the impulsive idiots that reside in the tower.” At Harry’s unimpressed look, he quickly amended with a sleepy grin, “okay almost all the Weasley’s. I wanted to sit with you for breakfast, and knew you’d be down early because you’re weird and wake up with the sunrise.” 

“You try growing up with Severus Snape as your father and knowing what this ‘sleeping in’ means.” Harry gave him a quick side hug and a genuine smile. “You’re the best, Draco.” Honestly, how could he have thought that he would lose his friends over something as silly as Houses?

“Obviously, Harry.” He drawled and scooped out a bowl of oatmeal. “Hand me the bowl of fruit, will you please?”

He slid over the enormous bowl filled with basic, almost under-ripe, unsliced fruit dished out his own bowl of lumpy oatmeal and spooned on some almonds and raspberry preserves. It was as close to the breakfast he was accustomed to at home as he could make here. “Sausage?” He motioned to the platter on his left and Draco holds out his plate. Wordlessly placing two, Harry dished himself some as well and glanced up at the staff table to see his papa had joined Professor Flitwick and was sitting in his chair pouring himself a mug of what was most likely coffee. Harry grinned at the sullen look on the tired face and giggled when Papa looked up and crossed his eyes at Harry playfully. 

“Harry, I am not ashamed to say I almost cried for you, you looked so horrified last night.” He looked away from his father and to his best friend, and the earnest expression made him think that he really was stupid to think Draco would ever hate him. “How is Gryffindor, is it terrible? We were talking at the feast and we’ve all decided that you are welcome to eat with us. We already talked with all the prefects, and they are all fine with it. They really thought you’d be in here with us at the very least and wanted to make sure you knew that nothing was going to change on their end.”

He nearly went limp at the relief that flooded his body. “It’s just loud. I’m hoping they’ll quiet down after a bit.” But he wasn’t going to hold his breath, that’s for sure. It was  _ Gryffindor _ .

Draco snorted and dug into his eggs. “You weren’t actually worried about me not talking to you again, were you?”

“Well of course I was!” He protested hotly, embarrassed he was being called out. “How would you feel if you were put into the one house you didn't want?”

“Oh, I’d raise hell.” Draco said loftily, and Harry knew he would at that. Draco was rather spoiled and generally got whatever it was he wanted. “But I wouldn’t think you’d abandon me.”

He didn’t really know how to respond to that, except to apologize softly with a grateful smile that Draco returned with a raised eyebrow and a pointed look of exasperation. 

“Give me a banana, Draco.” Pansy plonked down on the other side of Harry and yanked over the dish of scrambled eggs without so much as a hello to either of them. 

“How about a please, Parkinson?” Draco snapped back before tossing the yellow fruit at her inelegantly, uncaring if it bruised. She plucked it off of where it landed in the folds of her school robes and peeled it with a very pointed scowl at the blond. 

The third voice he had been waiting for drifted over his head as Blaise passed behind both him and Draco. “Aren’t we touchy this morning?” Blaise teased as he took the place previously occupied by Gemma. “One would think you barely slept.” Harry couldn't help the grin at his friend’s unflappable nature still present even at 6:30 in the morning when it was clear he'd rather still be asleep.

“Of course I barely slept.” Draco hissed irritably, stabbing his spoon in the gloopy oatmeal and stirring it with a vengeance. “I’m in a new place which makes it impossible to sleep anyway and besides, all I could think about was Harry all alone up in Gryffindor while I had you snoring next to me. How could I sleep knowing Harry most likely wasn’t asleep, either?” 

Harry felt oddly touched at Draco’s worry and more than a little jealous that Draco and Blaise were in the same dorm. He shoved the feeling down and tried to reassure them. “I was okay. I fell asleep eventually, despite Dean’s snoring. I think I’ll be just fine up there. I plan on spending as little time in my dorm anyway, so don’t worry about me.” He sniffed at his oatmeal and decided against eating it. It had an odd metallic smell to it he associated with metal shavings from Mr. Weasley’s tinkering shed and he definitely wouldn’t eat those.

“I’ll worry if I like.” Draco huffed, shoving back over the tasteless oatmeal with a scowl and peeling an orange instead.

Before Harry could utter any sort of apology, Blaise poked him with a fork hard enough he yelped. “Harry, I tried to tell the hat to put me in Gryffindor so you weren’t alone, but it laughed so hard it almost couldn’t call Slytherin.” He said cheerfully before he chose an apple from the bowl and bit into it with a loud crunch. 

Harry rubbed at the sore spot on his arm and laughed at the very idea of calm, quiet, and calculating Blaise in Gryffindor. He was everything a Slytherin valued. “I appreciate you trying, at least.” He heard footsteps walking and thought it was probably his papa’s gate from the space between the heel clicks. “Good morning, Papa.” He said softly and a chuckle told him he had guessed correctly.

“Good morning, Harry.” Papa smoothed a hand over Harry’s tied back hair and then down to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m not surprised to see you here at the Slytherin table. You’re up earlier than I expected you to be. Is everything okay?”

He nodded slowly, shrinking down a little in his seat as his attention was once again drawn to the fact that this was the only time he’d really see his friends outside of the weekends: mealtimes. “Yes sir, just wanted to avoid Weasley for as long as I possibly can.” He shoved his bowl away from him and sighed. It wasn’t fair! “I wish Gryffindor had every class with Slytherin. I hate that I don’t even have you for potions until 5th year.” He crossed his arms with a pout.

“You’re going to have to at least make an effort with the first-year Gryffindors, Harry.” Papa admonished gently. “They are your housemates, and if you cannot get along with your housemates, your years here will be miserable.”

“I know,” Harry muttered sullenly. He’d heard enough stories from both Papa and Uncle Remus to know that his housemates could make his life worse than miserable if they chose to do so. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to try with any of them, just that he wanted to stay far, far away from most of them. “I don’t feel like a Gryffindor!” And he didn’t think he ever would, so why should he try?

“The first step is acceptance, son.”

That. That tone right there was why he had to try. Papa expected him to accept what was now fact and adjust as he always did. He just didn’t want to have to adjust to Gryffindor! He would literally have taken Hufflepuff over his stupid house!  Harry groaned and let his head drop onto the table. “Fine. I’ll try and learn to be rash and reckless, okay? Should I start with standing on the broom when lessons start in October, or maybe I should ride the giant squid around the lake?” He felt a piece of parchment land on his head and slide its way towards his breakfast. “Hey!” He caught it before it landed in his oatmeal and smoothed it out carefully.

Papa chuckled, eyes bright with mirth. “That was not what I was trying to convey and you know it, you incorrigible brat. Gryffindors have more qualities than recklessness.”

“Yeah, stupidity,” Harry muttered, grinning up from his schedule impishly at Papa's muttered _Harry_.  “Well, you raised me, so you only have yourself to blame for any of my incorrigibleness.” 

True to form, his Papa shot him a sardonic look and whacked the side of his head with the rolled-up parchments. “Like I said. Incorrigible brat.”

“Don’t forget impish devil,” Harry snickered after allowing the smack to hit him. It never hurt, it was never meant to.

“As if I ever could,” Severus said dryly before gesturing and bringing Harry’s attention back to the parchment. “Professor McGonagall gave me your schedule. While you may not have all of your classes with your friends, you do have quite a few with them.”

Harry scanned it quickly to confirm the estimated number of classes he would have with his friends. He poked Draco’s side, amused that the burst of energy from early seemed to have fled his very much not a morning person of a best friend. Draco just swatted tiredly at his finger but kept his head down. Harry ignored him and read off his time table. “Draco. Draco, listen. I have Defense with you today.” 

Draco’s head came back up and he pleaded for his schedule and gave a weak thank you when Severus immediately handed him the parchment with an amused look.

“Look.” Harry pointed to that day’s column. “So today I have Transfiguration with Ravenclaw and then DADA with you guys and after lunch, Charms with Ravenclaw, and a free period with you guys.” They both scanned down the rest of the list, counting the S/G’s they came across and grinned at each other, Draco’s a bit more lopsidedly exhausted than Harry’s. “So we have DADA, History of Magic, Potions, and a couple of free periods together. Oh, and flying! I’m shocked the headmaster has allowed the first-year Slytherin and Gryffindor to have 10 time-slots together. That’s half our classes for the week!” Harry did a little dance in his seat. 

Draco elbowed him sharply with a loud yawn before letting his head thump back down onto the table. “You look like a demented salmon. It’s too early for demented salmon. Wait until lunch so I can be a demented salmon with you.”

Blaise tossed a piece of bread at the muttering blond. “Shut up about demented salmon!” 

“Do not make me take away points for a lack of decorum, Mr. Zabini.” The professor’s tone was low and full of warning, and Blaise shot him an apologetic look he accepted with an arched brow followed by a tiny smile at the other boy before returning his attention to his son. 

“Papa, may I come visit Gemma after dinner?” Harry pipped up as soon as he saw his papa’s gaze back on him.

He nodded. “But you may bring only yourself, Harry. Your friends will remain outside of our quarters during the school term.”

“Yes, Papa.” He shoved a bite of toast in his mouth to keep any rude comments about allowing friends in his room at home but not at school.  _ He _ wasn’t even supposed to be in his room during the term, but Papa had made an exception for him to visit Gemma, so long as it wasn't daily and only for an hour.

“Have a good day. I’ll see you at lunch.”

Harry waved bye rather than rudely speaking with food in his mouth. He didn’t get far into his breakfast before the familiar fluttering of owl wings sounded and his stomach sank despite having already decided the Prophet was going to make him first-page news.  _ Please, please, please let no one have heard Ron! _

It seemed his prayers were answered. The only thing that the Prophet announced on the front page was that a Potter was not at Hogwarts this year and that perhaps he had chosen to go somewhere else. “Thank Circe.” He muttered and flipped to look at quidditch scores, shoving Draco away to keep him from breathing hotly down his neck. He was only a little relieved, however. He knew it was only a matter of time before his secret was revealed. His only hope was that Ron forgot how to read. He didn’t need the idiot to be reminded that there  _ was _ a Potter at Hogwarts, even if by blood only.

~~*~*~~

Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom

~~*~*~~

“Wh-who can tell me wh-what the D-d-dark Arts are?” Professor Quirrell looked over the classroom full of Slytherin and Gryffindor first years. “N-n-n-not the textbook def-definition, in y-y-your own words, please.”

Harry’s hand shot up along with Draco’s (big surprise there) and Granger’s (even less of a surprise). To his disappointment, he called on Draco, who answered immediately. “The Dark Arts simply refers to any magic that is mainly used to cause harm to, control, or even kill the victim.”

“A dr-dry, but c-c-correct explanation Mr. Malfoy.” Professor Quirrell tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Anyone else?”

He called on a girl Harry wasn’t sure her name, only that she had very long sleek black hair and had a twin in Ravenclaw. “The Dark Arts are evil and against the law, that’s why they are dark.” Clearly, the correct twin had been sorted into Gryffindor. She didn’t seem to have a logical bone in her body.

“That’s not true at all.” Harry blurted out but snapped his mouth shut before he could protest too much out of turn. It just rankled him to have such poor phrasing tossed around that was inaccurate at best. The professor, however, simply smiled at him and gave him an encouraging nod to continue. “No spells are truly evil. It’s all about intent.” It was something he had learned well over the years, that no action in and of itself had any sort of alignment, it was the person in control of making the decision that gave it morality.

This time it was Dean who spoke up. “But they cause harm to others, can control other people, and some dark spells even torture or kill. So, doesn’t that automatically mean they’re evil?” It was clear, at least to Harry, that the other boy was a muggle-born and had gotten most or all of his information from either books or their Gryffindor housemates based on how he presented his own rebuttal.

Harry didn’t even try to control himself from responding, trying his hardest to ignore the bushy-haired girl next to him practically standing in her seat, waving her arm frantically. “No, there are always exceptions to a rule. Not all of the dark arts spells only cause harm. And not only spells are part of dark arts. Dark arts are also creatures and objects. The dark arts are dark because they require the caster to give up part of their humanity in order to cast it, or in the case of Dark Creatures, to become it.” Like his uncle Remus. Just because he was a werewolf didn’t make him evil, or dark, or cruel. He was probably the kindest man he’d ever met and never would have thought of him as a dark creature had he not already known.

There was a very small smirk hidden at the corner of Professor Quirrell’s mouth as he watched the exchange. It widened when he caught Harry watching him and he nodded at him. “Th-th-thank-you Mr. Snape. Th-th-that is a more complete answer, y-yes.” He tapped his wand against the blackboard and chalk began to write out the assignment as he spoke. “Your a-as-assignment today will be to wr-wr-write me a one-foot essay answering the question more thoroughly. N-n-not the Defense of, j-j-just the d-d-definition. N-n-now, who wants to read the first p-p-p-paragraph aloud? M-mm-ms. Granger, you seem eager enough. Go ahead.”

The professor turned to sit back at his desk, Hermione Granger’s voice airy and clear as she read not only the first paragraph but barreled on through to read the entire page like if she didn't finish it in less than a minute the text would vanish. Her voice, he decided, was grating and bossy and was absolutely giving him a headache. As he sank down in his seat and resisted the urge to hold his head, Harry hoped she wouldn’t be called to read aloud in every class. His head wouldn’t be able to take it.

~~*~*~~

14 September 1991

Saturday

Harry’s Room in the Snape Family Quarters

~~*~*~~

< “Why is your face moving on that paper?” >

Harry hadn’t seen his beloved snake in a week and  _ those _ were the first hisses out of her mouth? He shoved today’s copy of the Prophet into his desk drawer, determined to burn it later. He had already read it at breakfast and was none too impressed with yet another article about the son of two heroes being raised by a world-famous potioneer. < “Because I’m now a sodding celebrity. And hello to you, too.” > He added crossly. It hadn’t taken a week after starting Hogwarts for Ron to finally spill the beans on Harry patronage loud enough someone took notice and now the Prophet wouldn’t stop running articles on him.

< “Don’t take that tone with me. It isn’t my fault humans have no common sense.” > Harry had the sense she was laughing at him when she hissed incomprehensibly when she finished speaking.

She wasn’t wrong. < “They think I did something to the Dark Lord when the killing curse didn’t kill me.” > He explained with a scowl and her amused hissing ceased and something akin to understanding crossed her eyes. < “I’m famous because I survived when my parents didn’t. I’m a celebrity because I’m an  _ orphan _ .” >

< “And they are fools to think that plastering your face all over will endear you to them.” > She sniffed and flicked her tongue at the air in irritation. < “What does Papa Severus say about all of this?” >

Harry absolutely adored the moniker she had given his father. Papa had merely rolled his eyes when Harry had relayed the name, but the pleased smile was not one he could easily hide, not from his sharp-eyed son. < “That the wizarding world will find something else to obsess about soon enough.” >

She nodded as she wove her way around her rock and periscoped up the glass so Harry could finally pick her up. < “How much time today?” >

< “Papa said we can go outside.” > Harry answered gleefully, holding her up so she could weave into his hair like usual. < “It’s Saturday, which means it’s a weekend, which means I can have you as long as it’s not in the great hall at mealtimes or in my dorms.” > He knew she remembered, she had a very good memory, but he liked to reassure both himself and her that this wasn’t just a ten-minute quick visit before lunch. < “We need to hurry. Draco, Blaise, and Pansy are waiting in the hallway for us.” >

< “No need for impatience with me, I’m not the one walking.” > Came her muffled retort and Harry stifled a laugh at the immediate mental image that emerged. She wasn’t wrong. He closed her aquarium and then his bedroom door before speed walking his way through the small living room to the entrance portrait. Sea Cottage or Hogwarts, Papa’s rule about running indoors was still in place, and sometimes he managed to even remember it. 

“What’s so funny?” Draco demanded as soon as Harry stepped through the tapestry guarding his home away from home. Looking up, he grinned at the trio leaning against the wall outside his father’s quarters, Blaise holding the small wizarding camera he had brought to school in his hands. 

He scowled when the light flashed at him and Blaise grinned unapologetically in response. “Capturing memories.”

He made a face at Blaise before answering Draco’s question. “I’m just imagining Gemma with legs.” He felt a flick of a tongue and smiled when all three of his friends gave a little wave at his head. Gemma must have poked her head out of his hair long enough to be seen briefly. At least, he hoped she had ducked back out of sight. He didn’t want to lose the privilege of having her on the weekends because she was stubborn and didn’t understand why she had to hide inside. 

The quartet quickly made their way out of the torch-lit hallway and up the stairs that led out of the dungeon levels of the castle, intent on getting outside and into the sun as quickly as possible. He tried his best to ignore the stares of his peers, all of whom had been reading each article just like he had. “When will they stop staring at me?” Harry griped, hunching down in an attempt to hide in the tall collar of his autumn robes. “I’m still the same person I was before they found out I’m a biological Potter.”

“Because people are idiots.” Blaise said simply, holding the front door open for the other three to pass through. “And they’ll gossip about things that they find interesting until something else distracts them.” The grounds were surprisingly empty, and until Harry heard loud cheering come from the Quidditch pitch, he thought everyone was inside and knew something he didn’t.  _ It must be an impromptu game _ .

“So you’re saying we should cause a diversion?” Draco rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose we could create an even bigger scandal.”

Pansy looked positively gleeful at the very suggestion. “Will this involve blackmail?”

“No, we are not  _ blackmailing _ anyone.” Harry immediately said decidedly. “Not for this. It’s not really an option, anyway.”

“Blackmail is always an option.” Draco snorted, head held high and haughty. “You’re already becoming a true Gryffindor, Harry.” He held a hand to his forehead and swooned dramatically, Harry catching him only to shove him back away from him with a scowl. The other two just laughed at Draco’s reaction and he grinned back at them. “Well, what do you suggest then?” Draco continued, amusement still coloring his tone.

He had barely opened his mouth to answer when a loud explosion sounded off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest and all four immediately swung their gazes towards where the sound came from. Wordlessly, they all took off in a near run, determined to find the source of the destruction. They came to a halt just on the outside of the wood, Hagrid’s hut off nearby, and strained to hear what or who caused the explosion.

Sure enough, a duo could be seen weaving through the trees and Harry quickly yanked his three friends off behind Hagrid’s giant pumpkins before the pair could see them as they came closer. Peeking over the pumpkin they were behind, he saw the singed red hair before anything else and he instantly knew they thought they had their diversion when Blaise pointed wordlessly  at the twins with their clothes black in places and obviously plotting with how their heads were put together despite their fast-moving pace. Harry watched in trepidation as Pansy and Blaise turned to each other with wicked grins and he knew they already had a plan in place when he saw Blaise lift his camera and click away. 

As soon as the two were out of sight, Pansy turned to Harry and gripped his arm tightly. “ _ Blackmail _ .”

He closed his eyes briefly.  _ Circe save me from my bloodthirsty friends _ . “Then we’d have to explain why we were here, and no one is going to believe that we were just investigating when we have  _ him _ with us.” He gave Draco a look who grinned unapologetically back at him. The Malfoy heir was already very well known among the staff for his desire to explore and experiment and were they to bring this to the attention of the staff absolutely no one would believe that Draco wasn’t at the forest to go inside and perform his own misdeeds. They would all land in detention, and with Harry’s luck, he’d be stuck in one with the twins and that was a fate that sounded worse than death. They had gotten in trouble enough times before that Harry knew it was a certain outcome.

Pansy glared at the blond, who just wiggled his fingers in a mocking wave at her in return. “How else will I become the greatest spell master in the world? “ He asked nasally. “I have to practice as often and as hard as I can.”

“You literally have already ruined our reputation and we’ve barely started school.” She groaned and kicked the pumpkin, making a hollow thud when it landed. “I honestly don’t know how on earth you made it into Slytherin, Draco. You have absolutely no subtlety.”

“Where else would I go, Gryffindor?” He snorted. “There’s already one of us there, perish the thought.” Then he glanced at Harry with a little grimace. “Sorry, no offense to you.”

“None taken.” Harry waved it off as if it didn’t bother him, though he was bothered a tiny little bit. He didn’t want to be there, either, but he was stuck there so he didn’t appreciate the little jabs at Gryffindor. It was less than helpful in his need to learn to like, or at least, appreciate the house he was sorted in, and he’d rather they stop with the jokes.

“Well, if we can’t use the photos against the twins, we might as well go see what they were up to.” Pansy shrugged and took a few steps towards the forest, clearly intent on barreling through without a single thought to the dangers that lay inside.

“No, absolutely not.” Harry grabbed her hand and tugged her back. “It’s barely been two weeks since school started. Can we not get expelled yet?”

“Oh my goodness, you are such a goody-two-shoes!” Both Draco and Pansy shouted together, and Blaise nodded next to them. “You don’t always have to do what your father demands, Harry!” Draco added, both Pansy and Blaise appearing to agree with him with their head nods. 

Offended, Harry’s eyes dropped to the grassy grounds and then up to the woods before they returned to his friends imploringly. “Remember I grew up here? There is a reason the headmaster forbids students from the forest every single year. Both Professor Kettleburn  _ and _ the groundskeeper keep their…their  _ pets _ in there” He was definitely using the word to the loosest definition. Their ‘pets’ were more ravaging monsters that would rather eat them than love them.

All three faces in front of him pale at the reminder that there were not one, but two magical animal obsessed wizards on the grounds, and neither were quiet in their revelries when they had collected yet another creature whose classification was no less than three Xs in its rating. Harry wouldn't doubt there was a hydra or a minotaur or something deep inside the woods.

“Well the twins go in there, so they obviously have figured out a way to stay safe,” Pansy muttered sullenly but turned away anyway. “Fine, let’s go take a walk around the Black Lake. I want to find a place that’s just for us.” The four of them took off in the direction of the lake, eager to do just that.

“Hey, Harry?” Blaise spoke up for the first time since leaving the castle. “Why didn’t the twins say something earlier about you being a Potter?”

It was a valid question, at least if Draco’s and Pansy’s curious murmurings of agreement were any indication. Harry grinned widely, gleeful about the answer to the question. “While Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t let Papa cast the same modified fidelus he did for me and the sorting secret, he and Uncle Remus had a talk with them before they boarded the train their first year.” Talk was a light word to use for what actually had happened, threatened would be a more accurate term.

“What, did Professor Lupin threaten to eat them?” Pansy sounded far too gleeful at the very idea and Harry felt a little ill at the prospect.

“No, nothing like that.” Harry bit his lip and wondered if he should even be telling his friends this. Oh well, he’d already started, nothing for it now. “Papa just reminded them about his accomplishments as a potion master with Uncle Remus standing there menacingly.” He shivered a little in appreciation for how terrifying his uncle could be when he wanted to be. He could release a bit of the wolf part of his werewolf even outside of the full moon, the eyes and temperament mainly, and he definitely had tapped into that for the ‘discussion’ with the twins.

“Too bad it didn’t work with Ron.” Pansy said rather snidely as the lake came into view.

“Yeah, too bad.” Harry scowled at the reminder and his steps took a turn to stomping. < “Harry, please cease imitating an earthquake before I fall off of your head.” > Gemma’s voice drifted sleepily from his hair and he immediately obeyed, quieting his steps so his hair no longer flailed about.

< “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” > He did feel bad that apparently she had been napping, but he really hated to think about how Ron’s fear after a similar talk didn’t stick around for long. He sighed again and as they started their lap around the rippling water, he simply listened as his three friends laughed and talked over and around him, allowing the sound to warm and comfort him. 

He really did love the three of them with everything in his heart. They’d always been there for each other, and he accepted now that all of that wouldn’t stop just because of their houses. They would continue to love and support each other now and onward like they always had.

~~*~*~~

3 October 1991

Thursday

Gryffindor First Year Boys Dorm

~~*~*~~

A mere month into the term and classes had completely taken over Harry’s thoughts. Herbology was quickly becoming another one of Harry’s favorite classes, just after Defense and Potions. He had been digging around in their garden at home since he could remember and having an entire class period where he was allowed to do the same thing was more than wonderful. The only thing he hated about the class right now were the countless essays and tests on material he already knew. Thankfully, he had someone in his dorm that was even more plant-obsessed than he himself was: Neville Longbottom.

The other boy was rarely seen without either his herbology book or some other book on magical or muggle plants - and most of them weren’t library books, either. They had started to pair together in class and he was finding Neville to be a pleasant person to be around both in class and when in the dorms. Mostly, he was excited to be making a friend in his dorms. It helped that Neville was one of the only ones in the school who hadn’t taken to whispering about him or badgering him with questions. “Where did you find the answer for number 3?” He asked in Neville’s direction. They were trying to finish their homework for the day during their last free period so the rest of the day would be free for other things like actually seeing Draco.

“Page 34,” came the immediate response and Harry flipped the pages until he found the one named and then down the page until he found the paragraph on cultivating muggle plants in wizarding soil. He scribbled down the answer and shoved his quill back into the pot and stretched. He was very tired of homework already. His load seemed to have doubled from that when he was a pre-Hogwarts student being tutored.

A lopsided grin formed when a croak from Trevor’s aquarium echoed in the glass and then the room. The toad was fat and lazy, yet Neville was constantly misplacing the creature and he was almost surprised that the toad was inside his glass home. “Stupid toad.” Neville muttered from his bed and Harry looked up in surprise.

He thought Neville liked the creature. “What’s wrong with him?”

The round boy sighed and gestured at it. “Just...he’s not the first choice. In pets.” Trevor blinked slowly and Neville just rolled his eyes at it. “He doesn't do anything.”

That Harry could understand. He wanted Gemma with him and was told no, and so he had elected to not have a pet his first year. “What is your first choice?”

Neville’s face lit up and he dove for his desk, digging through the stack of books until he turned a thrust a photo album in Harry’s direction, opened to one of a younger Neville holding a squirming rodent - a simple rat. His eyebrows rose and he gave the other boy a skeptical look. “His name is Cactus.” Harry snorted and Neville scowled at him. “Don’t make fun, I named him when I was five and obsessed with the desert plants of America.” 

That had his eyebrows raising a bit and he vowed someday to pick at Neville’s brain for new information. “So, Cactus.” Harry had to stop himself from choking on his giggle at the name once again. “What makes him so special?” He wasn’t trying to be rude, he just couldn’t really understand what was interesting about having a rat for a pet.

“Well, I’ve had him since I was five.” Neville shrugged. “That makes him six, which obviously makes him a magical rat.” Magical rats were hard to tell from regular ones, save for their far extended lifespans, and Harry was excited about the animal now. He’d heard of some amazing potions that could only be made from the hair of a magical rat, and if Neville had one, he could experiment with the hairs! “He’s also really smart. I’ve taught him some tricks and he always picks up on new ones really fast.”

He sounded like a pretty awesome rat. You know, for a rodent. “Well, you’ll be able to bring him next year, right?”

Neville made a noncommittal noise as he shrugged. “Gran says I have to prove I can keep Trevor alive and safe at school before she’ll allow my ‘Rare Magical Rat’ to attend with me.” His hands dropped from making air quotes and a little frown formed on his brow. “Do you ever feel like you don't belong?”

Harry blinked at the non sequitur. “You mean Hogwarts in general?” He asked quietly, wondering where he was going with the line of inquiry. “Or, just in Gryffindor?”

“Yeah.” Neville’s voice was softer than Harry’s and wobbly with insecurity. “I just...I’m not...I’m not brave. I’m not...I begged the hat for Hufflepuff, you know?”

Harry let out a sharp, bitter laugh. He could relate. “And I begged it for Slytherin.”

Neville, instead of recoiling in horror, shot him a small smile. “Yeah, I figured you had, with all your friends and your da’ being Slytherins.”

He definitely liked Neville now. He was far sharper than he gave himself credit for and wasn't uselessly always expecting a clone of James or Lily. “I get not feeling like Gryffindor fits. But we’re here, for better or for worse.”

“My parents were both in Gryffindor, so you think I’d be happy to share their house.” A sad expression crossed Neville’s eyes. “But they are heroes, they were so brave and strong and I’m nothing like that. I like plants, and...and reading, and I’m so quiet, and…”

“Neville, none of those are bad things,” Harry argued back. “Who cares if you’re quiet and like books over people? So do I!”

“Gran.” Neville had an instant reply and another deep frown. “Sometimes I think she’s decided that Cactus has more magic than me.”

It was true that it appeared Neville struggled in the more magically based classes such as transfiguration and charms, but all of the first years struggled somewhere - even if it was just learning how to fit into the magical world that was so different from the muggle. Everyone had something that came a bit more naturally to them, and for Harry that seemed to be either Potions or Defense, and for Neville it was definitely herbology and anything related to plants. “If you didn’t have enough magic, you wouldn't have been accepted to Hogwarts.” Harry pointed out, and Neville made a face.

“I didn’t have my first accidental magic until last year. They thought I was a squib.” Neville hesitated before tacking on with a thumbs up, “I found out I apparently bounce, so there is that.”

Harry froze and stared at him in amusement. “What, did you fall down the stairs or something?” 

“More like I was dangled and dropped out a window by my uncle,” Neville muttered and Harry gasped in horror. 

“That’s awful!” And abuse.

“It’s not like he meant to drop me!” Neville shrugged again. “Before that, he threw me off a pier and I would have drowned if Gran hadn’t decided to rescue me.”

Decided. Like she had actually contemplated letting her grandson drown in an effort to manifest some magic? “That’s absolutely barbaric.” And there was no way his uncle hadn’t meant to drop Neville.

“He was teaching me how to swim, he just didn't realize how afraid of the water I was.” Neville appeared for a moment like he wanted to say something else, but he stood quickly from the bed instead and extended his hand towards Harry. “Hey, want to go to the library with me? I want to find another book to read.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest the abrupt subject change but closed it again upon seeing a dark look cross Neville’s eyes. It had been hard enough for him to tell Harry what he did, Harry surmised and decided against pushing the other boy to talk. He nodded, standing himself. It was only October, a mere month into the school year. They had plenty of time to get to know each other better and build trust enough to talk. “Of course. I wanted to find a book for potions.”

“Of course you did.” Harry grinned at Neville’s muttering, enjoying how much he sounded like Draco in that moment. He, too, was always exasperated with Harry’s obsession with potions and nature much like Harry was towards Draco’s obsession with  _ spells _ and Latin. “Let’s go.”

~~*~*~~

Severus Snape’s Office

~~*~*~~

Severus Snape POV

“And you’re certain?” Minerva sounded skeptical, and Severus didn’t blame her. He, too, had expected the headmaster to make a move already and the mere fact that he seemed to be completely ignoring not only Severus but Harry, was almost more ominous than the interfering.

He nodded sharply. “He hasn’t even approached Harry to say hello, even since the sorting.” They were sharing in their customary drink after work, provided one of them wasn’t on after curfew patrol duty, and with the headmaster currently visiting his brother Aberforth for the weekend they felt safe enough to converse freely.

“I would have thought he would be overjoyed to have Harry in his old house and would waste no time.” Minerva mused quietly. “I was ecstatic but worried because while I love having him in my house, he’s far quieter and withdrawn than the rest of my Lions.” She leaned back in her chair and sipped at her small glass of scotch. “Albus will make a move still, I’m certain of it, but perhaps we should recalculate  _ when. _ ”

“It could be tomorrow, or he could wait until the very last day of school. Albus Dumbledore has never been a predictable wizard.” Severus huffed and drained the rest of his own scotch. “I’ve noticed that Harry has started to make other friends in his year.” He said to change the subject and sure enough, Minerva’s eyes lit up.

“Yes, indeed. He somehow managed to find the one other first-year who feels as out of place in Gryffindor as himself and without any interfering on my part.” She sounded smug and Severus’s mouth quirked in a little half-grin at the sound. It was one he was feeling himself because he had told Harry countless times he  _ would _ make friends outside of Draco, Blaise, and Pansy. “Neville came to me the first morning and asked if it was possible for the hat to make a mistake. He feels like he doesn’t belong here at Hogwarts, let alone in the house for the brave. His words, mind.”

His nod was far slower this time, mulling over the conversation he had had with his son earlier in the day. He had come from the library with Neville in tow and he had been a bit surprised to see that Harry had chosen Neville from the dorms to befriend. But as first Harry and then even Neville shared the books they had found, Severus had no doubt that Harry had found possibly the only other first-year as knowledge obsessed as he was, even amongst the new Ravenclaws. His worry for Harry had eased tenfold today watching him with the boy who had been the other possibility for the prophecy, the boy who was born a mere 12 hours before his own son, who was also for all intents and purposes an orphan like Harry being raised by another. “I am glad they have each other, then, because Harry had similar concerns the first night when I spoke with him.”

She hummed and finished the last sip of her scotch and put her glass down on the desk with a click. “Any in your house you worry about?”

He gave a noncommittal shrug and poured himself a glass of water this time. He had an early class and could not afford any sort of fogginess in the morning. Of course, he had concerns about his snakes, Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott, specifically. Daphne was the daughter of a prominent name in the Ministry who was well-known as an advocate of Pureblood rights and Theo’s father had been one of those kissed after the first set of Death Eater trials a decade prior and neither seemed comfortable in the dungeons. Daphne had already been in three detentions for starting fistfights with other students in the hallways and he was at a loss in how the hat had chosen Slytherin for her except by her name only. “I have a couple, yes.” 

Theodore, on the other hand, he worried about for entirely different reasons. He was the exact opposite problem as Daphne, he seemed far too quiet and withdrawn, and he had reports from his prefects that the boy had no interest in socializing with any in his dorms. He, too, had observed the child sitting alone at the Slytherin table, staring over at any one of the other three tables almost wistfully.

Yes, he had two he was growing increasingly worried for and had been documenting the reasons since the second day of the term. He reached into his desk and pulled out a couple of files he glanced between so he could pass over the file on Daphne to her. “I would ask for your advice on one in particular.” 

A curious look crossed her eyes and she gently opened the folder to scan the contents inside. “Oh, yes. I’ve given Miss Greengrass a couple of those detentions myself.” A hum rolled in her throat as she closed the folder and let it rest in her lap. “She’s rather impulsive, isn’t she? I’ll be frank, Severus. You will most likely have to have a talk with her like I would one of mine. If you wish, you can sit disillusioned in my office during my appointment with Mr. Finnegan tomorrow for advice on how to contain his pyromaniac-like tendencies.” 

That was what he had been afraid of, so he was greatly relieved at her offer and he nodded his acceptance. “I wish the heads of houses could collectively override the Hat’s rulings in special cases like these.” He didn’t know how the girl would survive as a Slytherin, already the other girls in her year were avoiding her if they could as they didn’t want any sort of implication that they were part of the fights and point losses. “I shall have to arrange an appointment to speak with her, I think.”

“That would be wise, yes.” She agreed heartily. The folder was handed back to him and slid back into it’s hidden spot in the desk. “I intend to do the same with Harry and Neville. Perhaps closer to Halloween, or thereafter. Both boys have traumas that stem from that time, and I imagine they will need someone to speak to around that time.”

He was glad Minerva was the head of Gryffindor. While Remus would do an adequate job, anyone else would be either too hard or too soft on the brash and hardheaded students. Minerva could be appropriately either when the situation warranted it, and he would rather Harry feel comfortable telling his head of house things he might not be willing to tell his father or uncle. “Thank you, Minerva.”

The glare she gave him was immediate and he nearly laughed at just how cat-like the woman appeared at times. “I am offended you would think I would let him suffer. I love that boy as if he were my own grandson.” He may as well be, her love for Lily had been much the same as she had for her own daughters, and Severus knew her struggles to keep him at a distance like she would with any other student. She probably slipped up and called him Harry more often than Harry called her Professor Minnie, he thought in amusement.

He inclined his head in a silent apology and reached once more into his desk to pull out his chess set. “Would you care for a game before we retire for the evening?”

A mischievous look replaced the glare. “Oh, but of course, Severus. I do always enjoy trouncing your arse in less than five moves.”

An eyebrow raised at her playful swearing and he said confidently, “ah, you’ll find I have been practicing. I am certain I will give you a challenge this time.”

Much to his chagrin, she still won in less than ten moves, laughing at him the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry’s mostly forgotten about what the hat said, hence why no conversation with Severus yet. Thanks again for all the lovely reviews! You guys are the best.
> 
> Warnings: Talk of Neville's cannon abuse.


	6. Chapter 5: A Most Unforgettable Samhain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the end for some warnings! Nothing major. Thanks for the lovely reviews!

~~*~*~~

31 October 1991

Thursday

Severus Snape’s Office

~~*~*~~

Early Morning

His father was bent over his desk, quill scratching away furiously as he wrote, and Harry smiled a little at the very familiar sight common from his childhood. He cleared his throat, but the man didn’t move.  _ Odd, seeing as he’s the one who set the time _ . It was before dawn on the morning of Samhain. His father had arranged for them to perform their usual evening rituals in the morning instead due to the feast that night. They had agreed to meet at 5 am and Harry was exactly on time, so he waited a bit in the hopes his father would look up eventually. When it was obvious Harry hadn’t been heard, he swallowed and said in a louder voice than he used to clear his throat, “are you ready to go Papa?”

“Harry!” At his voice, Papa’s head flew up, eyes wide and almost panicked. “Is it really already…” His words trailed off and the parchment was placed on the stack of others. “Good morning, son. I’m so sorry.” Now Papa looked in a rush, and Harry felt a bit bad for startling him. “Have a seat, I will be ready in a moment and we will depart for the grounds.”

He obeyed and sat, feet swinging and just barely scraping the floor with his toes. He watched in mild amusement as his normally very organized father scurried around the office shoving piles of papers haphazardly into random slots on the bookshelves. “Where are we going?” He asked, genuinely curious as to how Papa had found a place that was safe enough to practice what the Headmaster had forbidden.

Papa pulled his cloak off of the coat rack in the corner of the office and draped it over his head, his answer muffled through the fabric. “There is a clearing a few yards from Hagrid’s hut where the old rituals used to be performed. You and your friends are not to go without me or another staff member accompanying you.” His head appeared as he warned and Harry gulped a little at the very serious tone his father held. “Even for the sabbats, it is far too dangerous for underage students to venture there alone.”

Everything was too dangerous for him to venture off alone, so Harry wasn’t really surprised at the restriction. He could only say one thing in response that the man would find even remotely acceptable. “Yessir.” Harry stood when beckoned and scampered out the open office door under his papa’s arm. 

They walked quickly through the halls, Harry taking the steps leading to the entryway two at a time. The doors to the outside made barely a sound as Papa opened them, and Harry was met with the crisp and cool humid air against his face and he smiled lightly. It was almost like autumn at home, only missing the stinging of the salt in the air, and Harry found himself nearly swept away with his longing for home. 

“Harry, please don’t lag.” 

With a start, he had to jog to catch up to his father who had paused and was staring at him with pursed lips. Harry knew why, too. They had precious little time to do what they could for Samhain, and they had to be quiet about it as well so wind wouldn't get back to the headmaster. He felt guilty that he could perform some of the celebrations and rituals with his father while the others he knew also followed the old ways had to tolerate and be satisfied with the muggle bastardization of the sabbat.

He was just thankful Hagrid seemed to believe they truly were just potion ingredient gathering for rare dawn plants as the half-giant waved to the pair as they passed the ramshackle hut Hagrid had built himself. While he seemed to like Harry, he didn’t trust that the groundskeeper would be able to keep to himself that they were celebrating what the headmaster had deemed unreasonable.

There wasn’t much they could do this early on Samhain, most of the rituals only worked in the darkness and for good reason. But they could walk and meditate and light candles with the promise of a repeat that evening in the solitude of their quarters. He would just need to take the map with him tonight to ensure that he wasn’t discovered by the Headmaster. Maybe he would seek out Mr. Filch to escort him. He hadn’t really had a chance to talk to him since school had started, and he felt bad for forgetting about the man.

As the sun finally started to make its appearance, Papa wordlessly directed them back to the path leading out of the forest. He snagged a leaf from the ground and transfigured it into a bag that appeared to be bulging with plant cuttings. It was a longshot that Hagrid would still be outside the cabin with Fang and not already making his way to breakfast, but it wasn’t a risk he knew Papa would want to make.

“Harry, has the headmaster approached you in any manner since school began?” Papa’s question came from what seemed to be nowhere and he frowned a little, shaking his head in the negative. No, the headmaster hadn’t even really looked at him since the sorting, so he wasn’t afraid of the old man talking to him. Oddly, Papa pressed him for more. “Have you seen anything weird, or anything that you find hard to explain.”

Again, Harry shook his head, and then paused just before they reached the doors. “Well, there was the paper the other week. We all thought it was weird someone managed to break into Gringotts, but that’s about it.” The Prophet had talked about a break-in at the bank, but as nothing had been taken the topic had quickly been forgotten. He didn’t think it had anything to do with Professor Dumbledore, but it certainly was odd, so Harry shared it.

Papa seemed satisfied and fell silent once again, opening the doors for Harry to pass through. Harry tried to think of anything else pertaining to the headmaster that Papa might want to hear, but his brain came up empty. Instead, all he could think about really was that today was the anniversary of his parents deaths and the last thing he wanted to do was attend the horrible feast that night. “Papa?”

He hummed in response, and Harry found his hand suddenly grasped in a much larger one. “Yes, son?” 

“Could I skip the feast tonight, please?” Harry shuffled his feet, fingers from his free hand fiddling with the edge of his jumper. “I’d rather just eat a quiet meal for Samhain with you.”

He sighed dejectedly when Papa shook his head, though he was hardly surprised about the answer or explanation. “I am sorry, Harry. But I know that you are aware that all the staff are required to attend all feasts and as head of Slytherin it is even more important I am in attendance. You shall simply have to endure. You are, however, welcome to join me for lunch or afternoon tea in my office. We can share break bread with your parents as we do with dinner typically, if you’d like.”

“I would.” He beamed at the offer, satisfied he could tolerate the feast better now. “I’ll come for lunch then, if that would be alright.”

“I will see you then.” Papa said in a tone that told Harry he was clearly dismissed to go to breakfast. But when he moved to remove his hand, the hold on his tightened and he looked up questioningly. There’s a tight expression on Papa’s face and Harry feels something in his chest pang. Today was always difficult for both of them, and he wished they could both skip classes today.

“I love you, Papa.” He whispered and smiled when Papa swallowed hard and pressed a soft kiss to his head. “Always and forever.”

“And I love you, Harry. Forever and always.”

~~*~*~~

Hogwarts Library

~~*~*~~

Midday

“Harry, I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

Of course Neville was worried, he was about to be surrounded by Slytherins and he was a Gryffindor, but he did not want to keep trying to divide all his free time between his Slytherin friends and his Gryffindor friend. They needed to officially meet already. Harry tried to reassure Neville that everything was going to be okay. “Honest, all three of them want to be friends with you.” He wasn’t going to say it was because when Harry had first suggested they study in the library for their shared free period, Draco had uttered with a sigh that he supposed he trusted Harry’s intuition and that Neville couldn’t be that bad if Harry was still friends with him by this point in the year.

Prat.

He began to pull out his textbooks, intent on spreading out so he could get himself organized, when a soft voice cleared behind him. He spun to see a first year boy, probably a Slytherin based on his ability to blend into the shadows though he wasn’t wearing a tie and had tried to obscure the patch on his robes, and wondered exactly who he was. “You don’t have to do it, you know.” Harry had no idea what ‘it’ meant and his frown must have told the other boy that because he sighed and rubbed at his forehead in exasperation. “You’re Harry Potter, right? So you don’t have to do it.”

_ This shite again?! _ “Harry Snape, actually.” He snapped frostily, sick and tired of people insisting that they know and understand his parentage better than he does himself. “And what is it I’m being forced to do?” No one was forcing him to do anything, at least not in his opinion.

The boy gave him a calculating look before sighing a little, shoulders slumping as he turned away. “Never mind.” Before Harry can voice any sort of question or complaint, the boy had snagged his bookbag and disappeared behind a shelf nearby.

_ Odd _ . “Who was that?” He glanced over at Neville who grimaced a little.

“I’m not sure.” He looked guilty that he didn’t know and shrugged. “I think he’s a pureblood, but I can’t remember what Professor McGonagall called him during the sorting because I was too stressed out and he obviously doesn’t offer anything in classes so I haven’t caught his name. I’m sure he’s a Slytherin, though.”

“Draco will know.” Harry realized out loud and settled down to wait for his friends to arrive. “If it’s another Slytherin, anyway.” He couldn't tell for certain, not with everything covered, but he can’t imagine someone being that ashamed of a house if it weren’t Slytherin. It’s exactly what he had imagined Ron would have done had he been sorted outside of Gryffindor, what with his house pride.

“I know a lot, but not everything.” 

Neville squeaked in surprise and Harry jumped and twisted as soon as he recognized his best friend’s drawl. “But you know everyone in your dorms, yes?”

Draco rolled his eyes and took the seat across from Harry, who rotated to keep facing the friend talking. “What kind of a Slytherin would I be if I didn’t know my housemates?”

Harry elected to assume the question was rhetorical and moved on with his question. “Is there a Slytherin boy in our year who doesn’t want to be a Slytherin?”

There wasn’t even a pause between Harry’s final word and Draco’s eye roll as he dumped out his bag, spilling out books and quills and parchment haphazardly. For a snobby rich pureblood, Draco had absolutely no organization skills and Harry found it extremely amusing sometimes. “Don’t tell me, Theodore Nott just came up and told you to stop hanging around death eaters.” His tone told Harry it had happened enough already that he considered the other boy to be predictable. 

“Well not in those words, just that I didn’t have to do it, whatever he meant by that.” Harry frowned and tried to think about if he had ever seen Theodore at any of the celebrations if his mother was the high priestess. He doesn’t remember ever seeing the other boy, and he had a good memory for people and names.

“He meant that since his Daddy was a convicted, kissed Death Eater, he wants nothing to do with Death Eaters and the Dark Lord and that includes the children of those who were associates of his father.” And it sounded like Draco had extended a hand of friendship and had been rudely rejected and was now nursing a sore pride. “He was warning you about us, probably trying to see if you were a Potter or a death eater.”

Thankfully, another voice cut into the conversation to help clear up some confusion. Blaise sat calmly next to Draco as he tacked on with, “actually, what he said was he would prefer not to associate with anyone or anything that was in anyway related to his father or his father’s horrible decisions, and that he regretted being unable to accept your friendship until he could believe you weren’t simply trying to get at him at your father’s request in an effort to end the line of Nott.” 

“What?” Harry spat out incredulously just as Neville softly exhaled ‘that doesn’t make sense’ in his most confused tone.

“What doesn’t make sense?” Pansy plunked herself down next to Neville, who jumped about a foot in the air at her sudden appearance and closeness.

“Theodore Nott.” Harry said in unison with Draco and Blaise, Neville in too much of a state of shock to do anything but stare gormlessly at the vivacious girl who joined them, her normally sleek and smooth black hair a frazzled mess, a clear sign of the stress she was feeling with the upcoming unit test in transfiguration approaching.

She rolled her eyes as she set up her own homework. “You two are pathetic.” Then she eyes Neville and snorted. “You  _ three _ are pathetic. He was raised by his mother, and probably was told all sorts of horrific stories in an effort to dissuade him from following in his father’s footsteps.” 

He hated it when Pansy acted like she was smarter than they were, especially when they had all had similar tutoring and were all first years. “Why would he talk to me then? My father was the Dark Lord’s hand-picked potioneer, you’d think that would disqualify me from being appropriate to talk to.” Not that he thought any of his friends parents had any intention of returning to the Dark Lord should he return, nor would his friends betray him. Theodore Nott was wrong, he knew that deep in his heart, but it still hurt that people believed the worst about his family.

“I bet he’s trying to make sure you’re not already a Death Eater. You know, with the confirmation that you are, in fact, the son of two heroes of the light.” Pansy surmised and Harry knew she was probably correct. 

“But I’m not a Potter.” Harry argued quietly, shuffling his parchment around until he found a blank one to start his essay. “I wasn’t raised as one, and I’m certainly not going to denounce my father just because some swot has decided he can’t be friends with me because Papa once worked for the Dark Lord.”

The others followed suit, Draco taking time to watch each of the other three before nodding towards Harry. “Either way, after being either ignored or rebuffed so many times, no one tries to approach him in the dorms anymore.” He quickly laid out his own homework before looking expectantly at Harry. “Aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” He asked innocently and Harry scowled, throwing a wad of scrap paper at him.

“You arse, you know Neville already.” Harry however humored the other boy. “Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, meet Neville Longbottom.”

The first two introduced gave him friendly smiles and polite nods, exactly what Harry had expected. Draco, too, did exactly what Harry expected him to do in an effort to display the Malfoy name.

Draco stood fluidly and held out his hand elegantly. “Pleasure.” He simpered with a self-important look in his eyes that had all three of his friends rolling their eyes. To his credit, Neville hesitated for only a moment before accepting the hand and giving it a single pump before retreating back to sit in his chair. “Always nice to meet friends of Harry’s.” Draco continued in a way that reminded Harry very much of his Auntie Cissa and the other Gryffindor merely stared at the other blond in disbelief. 

Harry let out an amused snort when he saw Neville’s look of utter confusion. “Draco, you’ve never met friends of mine because you’ve been the one to introduce me. Plus, I’ve tried to introduce you two, you’ve just refused to meet up until now.” He had claimed wanting to make the right impression, but Harry knew he was just nervous about meeting someone from the opposite side of the last war.

Draco, in true fashion, ignored the last part of Harry’s statement. “Which makes this all the more memorable.”

“You are such a prat sometimes.” He had to duck out of the way of the dripping quill Draco launched at him. “So, if he’s a Nott, why haven’t I met him before?” He went back to his previous line of questioning, hoping to figure out exactly what it was Theodore was warning him against.

Pansy had the answer to the question, and answered before anyone else could jump in. “The high priestess is his aunt, not his mum. Mother told me she renounced the old ways the moment Lord Nott was kissed and so none of us met him until the sorting.”

“In other words, he’s been told his whole life we’re all probably just Junior Death Eaters and to be very cautious around us.” Blaise finished before Draco could add anything, whose scowl at the dark Italian boy told Harry he knew exactly what Blaise was doing.

That explained why he’d never seen the other boy before. It didn’t explain why he would think the four of them would be little death eaters in training if he hadn’t tried talking to them to figure it out for himself.

“I mean, I’ve been told that, too.” Neville pipped up quietly, and all four looked at him simultaneously, making him flush and look away. “Gran and my Uncle and just everyone, they all warn against specific pureblood and half blood surnames.” He quirked a little smile at Harry who grinned back. “But I’ve always tried to get to know someone before I decide to hate them.” The tiny smile faded and he glanced away again. “You don’t seem like evil maniacs to me.”

“Psh, just wait.” Draco said with a sly look at Pansy. “You’ll change your mind about  _ her _ soon enough.”

“I’m not the one with a homicidal need to create spells!” She screeched-hissed, fearfully looking over at Madam Pince’s desk to make sure they weren’t being too loud. The Madam was extremely strict with the noise rules in her library, claiming they were to ensure everyone there was being granted the silent study time they were desiring. “I am a model student I’ll have you know. You are the one with a troublemaker reputation two months into the year.”

“ _ I’ll have you know _ ,” he started mockingly and then more irritated, “that none of those incidents were my fault.”

“Oh like  _ Harry _ was the one running around breaking all the rules and smashing latin together haphazardly.” She laughed to emphasize her point, earning a stern hushing from the matron at the desk. The very idea of Harry breaking rules willy nilly was indeed very laughable, but he wasn’t going to break down in the middle of a quiet room.

“If you get me kicked of the library, Pansy…” Harry allowed his voice to trail off menacingly and she gave him an almost apologetic look. 

“I am sorry, but if Draco wouldn’t be sitting here  _ maligning my name _ …”

“Oh please, you’re a Parkinson, that name comes with as much baggage as mine!” Draco wasn’t even trying to keep his voice down and Harry immediately hushed him with a hand and a hiss while shooting the library matron an apologetic look. She gave him one in return that told him they were on her last nerve. Thankfully, Draco continued in a hiss through clenched teeth. “And both of your siblings go here. All the teachers know what to expect of you.”

Madam Pince seemed to be satisfied they were quiet enough and Harry returned his attention back to the table. “Well, we’ll just have to prove to Theodore that we  _ not _ mini death eaters, okay?”

“I think us befriending a Gryffindor would be the only way to convince him, so at least we’re on the right track.” Blaise said dryly and even Neville let out a snicker at the humor.

“Guess that makes me the token Gryffindor.” He shook his head to get the dirty blond bangs out of his eyes and gave Harry a grin. “‘Cuz we all know what house Harry should be in.”

“Hufflepuff.” Draco burst out immediately but was immediately drowned out by a trio of voices.

“ _ Ravenclaw _ .”

“I still think I’d be a Slytherin, but cheers mates.” Harry looked up briefly as if praying for patience and then back down to his textbook. “Can I please finish my essay now? I don’t want to have to worry about homework tonight.” He hid a wince when his voice unintentionally cracked but it had the desired effect.

The other four fell silent, all suddenly remembering just what today was for  _ him _ outside of what it meant for everyone else in the wizarding world. “Sure thing, Harry.” Blaise answered for them all softly, and they soon fell nearly silent save for the rustling of parchment and scratching of quills and the occasional question related to the homework. He wanted to finish as much as he could before charms and lunch.

~~*~*~~

Great Hall

Hallowe’en Feast

~~*~*~~

Evening

He sat himself at the very edge of the Gryffindor table to wait for Neville to show, trying to ignore the garish decorations and obviously muggle influences that seemed to mock him and how he felt about the seriousness of this particular sabbat. Today had steadily gone from not-great-but-tolerable to absolutely awful. The early morning walk with Papa had given him hope that today would go okay, and the official introducing of his two groups of friends went much better than he had hoped, but those were the only positive things for the day so far. 

Charms had them learning the levitation charm, and while it had taken him and Pansy four tries to work the feather, both Blaise and Draco did it in two. Poor Neville couldn’t even wiggle the feather and of course Seamus’ exploded into flame.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione Granger’s feather lifted perfectly the first try and she spent the rest of the class period attempting to correct every single person’s casting, unfortunately including Ron Weasley. When she made a correction to his pronunciation, nearly everyone leaned away from the inevitable explosion from the redhead, who reacted accordingly. He had bit out that he didn’t need help from nosy know-it-alls and she had retreated to her seat to sit silently the rest of class. 

As they were leaving, he overheard him telling Dean and Seamus that it was a shame she’d never have friends since no one liked bossy insufferable know-it-alls. He had turned to tell them off for being so impolite to a member of their own house when she had pushed between him and Neville nearly knocking him into Draco, sobbing the entire way until she vanished around a corner. Ron had immediately flushed and vanished in the opposite direction and had Harry not been on his way to meet his Father for lunch, he would have followed.

Lunch had started fairly normally. They had the candles and the bread and Papa had been about to break the bread and begin the ritual when a frantic knocking had him disillusioning the meal and bidding the interloper entrance. It had been a prefect babbling about something to do with an exploding potion and Papa had vanished with an apology over the shoulder, saying he’d return shortly.

He hadn’t. Harry had eventually completed the ritual by himself so he could eat before heading to his last couple of classes, bitter feelings of abandonment welling up with every bite, every step towards class. He had been afraid of this happening, of students and school becoming more important than he was.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he completely missed any sort of warning someone was behind him until he was startled from a touch to his shoulder. He whirled around to see his father, bags under his eyes and a general exhausted aura around him, and Harry immediately felt guilty for his ungrateful thoughts. “You look tired, Father.” He whispered and Papa nodded slowly.

“I am sorry I couldn’t return to finish our lunch.” He said just as softly. “The situation was far worse than I had imagined, and Poppy needed my assistance and expertise.” Harry remembered the year the one boy had had an incident in Papa’s class, and how affected by it Papa had been, and his guilt only increased. He had been so selfish in his thoughts.

“Will he be okay?”

“He will recover mostly unaffected from his burns, yes. Though he does have a month of detention for brewing in an unsafe location without proper supervision.” Papa assured him and he relaxed a bit. “I will come find you tonight to light the candles.” His lips quirked in a small smile, instantly relieved that Papa hadn’t forgotten about their routine and rituals for the day. “I shall take my leave.” He looked over to see Neville approaching and waved as he felt his father’s presence move away towards the staff table. His friend took the inside seat and Harry felt so thankful he had chosen an end seat when he saw Ron’s face fall as he entered shortly after when he saw no space near Harry available. 

He stared at one of the platters until he could feel the hubbub of the great hall fade around him, intent on ignoring as much of the feast as he could until they were safe in the dorms and he could do all of this properly. “Harry, I think Draco wants to tell you something.”

Neville’s elbow jolted him out of his thoughts, or rather lack thereof, and he noticed that Dumbledore’s speech must already be finished as students around him were already part way through serving themselves and he reached for the spoon in the potatoes as he looked over to where he knew Draco would be sitting. That was a mistake. He nearly choked on his spit when he saw the frightening cross-eyed look his friend was giving him and scowled in return, making Draco fall apart into giggles, elbowing Pansy and Blaise and making them laugh in return. 

“Your friends are insane.” Neville commented dryly, dishing himself some meatloaf. Harry opened his mouth to reply when the doors to the great hall banged open and everyone fell silent as they watched a disheveled Professor Quirrell stumble-running between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables towards where the headmaster was sitting.

“T-t-troll!” He was yelling, gesturing behind him. “Troll in the courtyard.” Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed, and Harry leapt to his feet in shock. 

He wasn’t alone. Nearly everyone was standing by this point, and muttering or shouting until a loud voice could be heard over the din. Professor Dumbledore stood in front of his chair, his wand to his throat to amplify the sound. Thankfully, it seemed to be the logical Dumbledore tonight as he shouted, “all staff to the entry hall. Prefects, take your houses to your dormitories through the staff doors in the rear of the room. Quickly now.” He nearly ran down the center of the great hall, the staff following in his wake, leaving behind hundreds of students now in a panic.

Harry didn’t know how it happened, but he found himself separated from Neville when Ron latched himself to his arm on their way out the the small rear doors and turning to the hallway that lead to stairs that would take them directly up to Gryffindor tower. “I don’t think Hermione was at the feast!” Ron was yelling in his ear, and he leaned away in an attempt to get out of his grasp. “I didn’t see her sitting with us!”

“And whose fault is that?” Harry snapped, already short on his patience with the redhead. “Insulting members of your house is in poor taste and you know it.” Why was Ron telling him instead of the prefects?

It seemed Ron didn’t know quite how to respond to that and instead gestured away from the stairs. “We have to do something. We have to tell her about the troll!”

Were all Gryffindors this ready to jump into danger without a single thought towards a reasonable plan? “Do you know where she is?”

“Not really, no.”

Of course not. “Well neither do I so the answer is no. Tell Percy, he’s a prefect.” That was the reasonable thing to do in this situation, he felt, and he wouldn’t do something unreasonable. Not with a troll running about. He looked all around him again, trying to find Neville among their housemates to no avail.  _ I hope you’re behind me, Neville. _

Ron just scoffed and tugged at Harry’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go find her! She’s missing!” 

_ And why is she missing instead of at the feast? Right, because you’re an arse. _ “Excuse me, Percy!” Harry called out instead of acknowledging Ron. “There is a first-year missing! Hermione Granger isn’t with us.”

“I'll handle it, thanks Harry.” Percy looked frazzled and continued to usher the Gryffindors up the stairs. “Get into the dorms, one of us will look for her.”

He nodded his acceptance and shuffled forward with the rest of his house, anxious to be away from the open corridors that a troll could easily fit down. He hoped Draco, Blaise, and Pansy had gone with their prefects as told. He knew Draco had a streak of Gryffindor in him that would have him rushing after a creature such as a troll to test a new spell he was learning and he did not want to learn of his best friend’s demise in the morning because he had forgotten his head.

But Ron had no such qualms about his safety. “Harry, we can’t wait for Perfect Percy!”  _ Of course he would say that, _ Harry thought bitterly, he didn’t think anything decent about his older brother. “We need to go now!” Ron was insistent, yanking at Harry’s robe sleeves to the point he was afraid the other boy would rip his clothing and Harry snatched the fabric out of the gripping fingers of the redhead with a scowl. 

Brushing the wrinkles from the sleeve, Harry shook his head as he shot an annoyed look at the other boy, one he had known nearly his whole life and never gotten along with for this very reason. Ron was absolutely determined to do everything he could to do the opposite of what was decent or proper, including allowing adults to be the adults in a dangerous situation. He really did make the perfect Gryffindor, if anyone asked for Harry’s opinion on the matter. The line of students rounded the corner and Harry bit out through clenched teeth, “we are eleven, Ron. We told a prefect, as we should do.” He grew up in the halls of Hogwarts. He knew her rules like the back of his hand and Gryffindor or not, he wasn't about to start breaking them now. Not for something as dangerous as a troll, and especially not to join Ronald Weasley on a rescue mission for a girl who had only needled at him incessantly since day one about everything. He’d probably go for Draco, Blaise, Pansy, and Neville, but he would not risk his life for either Ron or Granger.

Harry’s answer, however, just seemed to set the redhead off further. “You’re a Gryffindor!” He spluttered in protest, his hands flailing in agitation as he came to an abrupt halt. “You’re supposed to be brave! Heroic!  _ Noble! _ ”

He resisted the urge to slam his hands over his ears. Ron Weasley really was his mother’s son, from his temper to his banshee-esk screeching. “There is a difference between bravery and acting without caution,  _ Weasley _ .” Harry finally snapped and put immense emphasis on the use of his last name, sounding exactly like the stern potions professor who raised him, and turned back towards the group of Gryffindors who were making their way up the staircase already only to find himself yanked back by his robe sleeve.

“Where are you going?” Ron shrieked, still trying to drag Harry off with him. 

“With the rest of our House as we were instructed. Go tell a professor about Granger if you don’t want to wait for Percy to do it and come back to the dorms as we were told.” He barely refrained from rolling his eyes and moved towards the stairs. “Or you can go play the hero. But leave me out of it. I did my part and told a prefect. I will not be expelled because you want me to  _ do something foolish _ .” He bit out the last few words in a staccato and turned back away. He was not going to go and do something that his father would certainly call Gryffindor stupidity.

“You’re seriously going to just leave a defenseless girl alone with a wandering troll?” Weasley still had a grip on his sleeve, but it was a lot looser than before and Harry was able to retrieve his arm and walk off. “Harry!” 

Harry ignored him and kept walking with his classmates up the stairs and through the portrait. He had already said his bit and hated repeating himself. What did Weasley think they could do that the teachers couldn’t? They had only been learning spells for two months, and while he knew some basic defense spells through the dueling wands given to him as he grew up, actually casting through a real wand was different. He was struggling enough with his wand to do the basic first year spells, he couldn’t manage any of the only ones he knew could take down a troll.

Besides, he had his suspicions about who actually let the troll into the dungeons, and he couldn’t be arsed to allow Dumbledore to lure him into danger. He had hoped that Uncle Lucius’ petition to the governors would produce a new headmaster this year but had of course been disappointed when they had said there wasn’t quite enough yet to prove anything. He hoped they found their proof soon. He hated not knowing which Headmaster was going to be talking to him that day, though now that he thought about it, he hadn’t tried at all to talk to Harry, not even trying to maintain any sort of eye contact.  _ That’s somehow very odd, but I guess that’s a good thing. _ He hoped.

Still not seeing Neville, he made his way through the unnaturally quiet common room as the other Gryffindors were also making their way into their dorms instead of milling about like usual. Harry settled on his bed after snatching his charms textbook off the desk, determined to master the theory before the next class period in an effort to take his mind off of what was happening. Seamus was already sitting on his bed with Dean, and they were animatedly talking about something Harry wasn’t listening to. 

Neville stumbled in just as Harry was starting on the third paragraph, gasping for breath. “Have any of you seen Ron?” His voice was high pitched and weezy, panicking. “Or Hermione? No one’s seen them since we entered the common room. Everyone else is here.” 

Seamus and Dean immediately started naming all the places the two missing students could be, quickly devolving into ridiculous places such as Merlin’s castle or Atlantis while Neville stood there fidgeting, his breathing slowly returning to normal. Harry couldn’t let his friend worry when he at least had an idea. He sighed, letting his book rest in his lap when it was obvious he wasn’t going to be left alone to his studies. “Ron said Hermione was still missing from after he insulted her and wanted to go rescue her. I brought it to Percy’s attention and he said the prefects would deal with it.” Not to mention she was only missing because Ron was a nasty prat to her during charms today.

The other two boys all fixed suspicious looks at him, Neville seemingly completely ignoring the exchange. Seamus was the only one brave enough to ask. “So why are you here if he’s not, then?”

“What, and be killed by a troll?” He resisted another eyeroll and shrugged, opening his book back up. “I’m not an idiot. I told Ron if he wasn’t going to wait for the prefects to do their jobs, then he needed to tell a professor, not me.” He looked away from the other boys but didn’t resume his reading yet, knowing he’d only be interrupted if he did so.

Sure enough, Seamus immediately put up protest. “But you’re Harry Potter.” A snort came from Neville’s direction and he greatly appreciated that the other boy was on his side.

He raised an eyebrow at Seamus. He hated how he had to continue to correct the assumptions on his name. Even with his name being read correctly by Professor McGonnegal, the stupid articles had made it so some of the students were  _ still _ struggling with the idea that Harry Snape and Harry Potter were, in fact, the same person, that it was Harry Snape who was the boy who lived, that Harry Potter hadn’t existed since that fateful Samhain night. “My name is Harry Snape, thank you. And what does my name have to do with this mess?”

Neither of the boys answered. Seamus and Dean kept their suspicious looks on him for another few heart beats and then turned back to each other, muttering low enough that Harry would have had to strain to hear them, if he cared to at all. He ignored them and went back to his reading.

Neville, he noticed, was struggling with something, but Harry couldn’t tell what exactly was bothering him. His cheeks were red and his fists were clenched tightly in his lap, and he wondered if he should go and ask what was wrong. He watched as the other boy drew in some breaths before aggressively opening his herbology book and Harry decided Neville wanted to be left alone. He ignored the stabbing guilt, the  _ maybe I  _ should _ have done something more to help Granger _ bouncing around his thoughts, in favor of following suit and returning to his studies.

About halfway down the page, his eyes unfocused as a flash of a horrific scene of a troll’s club held high over a shrieking girl overwhelmed his senses. Broken sinks surrounded her and he could see the mangled form of a bathroom stall behind her. When the club fell, Harry could hear a familiar voice shouting her name,  _ Hermione, no! _ His breath caught in his throat and he gave a violent shiver before just as quickly as it had appeared, the vision vanished. Blinking rapidly, he tried to bring his heaving lungs back under control. Granger would be fine. Ron would be fine. Neither of them, nor their subsequent actions, were his responsibility. Besides, Professor Quirrell said the troll was outside in the courtyard, not inside the castle. The pair of missing Gryffindors weren’t in any sort of danger of being attacked by the troll in a bathroom.

Oddly, his mental reassurances failed to alleviate any of his rapidly growing guilt and after being unable to return his focus on his reading, he decided he might as well light the candles mentally during his mediation and go to bed. He  _ was _ awfully tired, and he doubted Papa would collect him for their yearly ritual now, not with a troll roaming the grounds, nor would he risk expulsion should someone find him out of the dorms when under lockdown in an attempt to perform them himself in his hidden alcove.

~~*~*~~

Somewhere on the Third Floor

~~*~*~~

Late night

~~*~*~~

Severus Snape POV

He was tired, beyond exhausted even, yet he had a duty and responsibility as head of Slytherin house to ensure his students safety. And once the troll had been disposed of, there they met in the hallway just outside the Great Hall, the four heads of houses, intent on furthering both their plans on removing Albus and protecting the students at all costs. 

“The robbery last night must have been a diversion." Filius was saying, Pomona nodding her curly grey head in agreement. "But I wasn’t aware it was even being kept there, nor had it been held at Gringotts at any time during its lifespan. I was under the impression it remained at the house of the owner.”

“Yes, but by who? And more importantly, why? No one should even know we have…” Severus cut himself off when the sound of footsteps reached his ears and a moment later he smelled the man before he saw him. He relaxed when he realized it was merely Quirinius shuffling his way down the hall in a cloud of stench. “...we have any sort of such a rare...object, let alone make an attempt to steal it.” He finished as the man reached them, not wanting to refer to the type of object with a member outside their little coup in hearing range.

Minerva frowned and shook her head a bit. Wisely, she kept her comments to herself as she glanced at the nearby portraits watching them curiously. She sighed and smiled at the Defense professor as he reached the small group of the heads of houses. “Good evening, Quirinius.”

The stench was horrific that came from the man, one that seemed even worse than the goat farms near their property. “What on earth have you been into?” Severus asked with a hand over his face, unable to handle much more of the offensive stench wafting off the smaller professor. 

He appeared appropriately abashed and looked down at himself, and then back up at Severus. “I-I-I  _ was _ the o-o-one who-who found the thing. I m-m-might have f-f-fallen in some of it’s scat when m-m-making my escape.” 

And hadn’t yet bathed despite it being hours, how absolutely revolting. “Please remove yourself from my presence to  _ shower _ , immediately.” He demanded, the other professors with him nodding in agreement. Even Pomona Sprout, and she dealt with all manner of smelly manures for fertilizers in her greenhouses. 

“Consider it done!” The man chirped far too cheerfully for someone covered in troll dung. He disappeared around the corner, presumably headed to his quarters to do just as he said.

Severus waited until he no longer heard any sort of movement from the direction he vanished before continuing the conversation. “I believe our luck will hold, I have no doubt he is unaware of its presence here in the castle.” Though if the nosy portraits did their jobs, Albus already knew about the copy of the stone of life created by famous alchemist Nicolas Flamel though he should be still unaware that it was just that, a copy. Hopefully this conversation would also be passed along to the headmaster. The man would be hard pressed to ignore such a rare and magnificent temptation like the Philosophers Stone.

“We should make one more round to ensure no students are out of bed tonight of all nights.” Severus wasn’t at all surprised to hear the suggestion from Pomona. It truly wouldn’t surprise him at all if some foolhardy Gryffindor or some studious Ravenclaw sought out the troll for curiosity sake despite the dangers.

“Yes,” Filius agreed. “We don’t need a repeat of earlier.” Severus had to occlude rapidly to prevent the overwhelming memory take over. He had been the first on the grisly scene, the students involved unrecognizable at first under all the blood and gore, and when the other three heads of houses had come on the scene he had quickly sent Filius off to retrieve Poppy, Pomona off to floo the emergency room at St. Mungos, and Minerva to get in touch with the Weasley and Granger families. He was still waiting to find out just why the two hadn't been with their house, thankful for the warning from Percy Weasley. There was a reason he was made a prefect, and he was pleased to see Minerva had made a wise choice in choosing him.

“Do you think they will be alright?” That was Pomona, always empathetic towards others. It was why she made the perfect head of house for the Hufflepuffs. “Those poor children…”

“I am assured that they will live.” Severus had joined the group after taking the floo call from Poppy at St. Mungos after taking the two First Years who had been caught up in the troll’s path after it had somehow made its way inside the castle. “Now, I am exhausted, and as such would like to complete my rounds quickly so I can sleep.” Silently, the four of them paired off to head in opposite directions to cover the grounds faster.

But when the adults fell quiet, to Severus’ horror, they heard a loud banging shuffle followed by a child’s soft voice cursing and his heart dropped to his feet. All four heads of houses exchanged worried looks before rushing off towards the sound, all wondering the same thing.

_ Who would dare be breaking curfew? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of the violent troll attack on students. NO DEATH. I promise. Just mentions of some gore, but no descriptions.


	7. Chapter 6: The Price of Self-Preservation

~~*~*~~  
31 October 1991  
Thursday  
Unknown Hallway  
~~*~*~~

The first thing Harry realized as he came to consciousness was that he had a massive ache deep in his brain that seemed to be splitting his head in two. The second was that he was definitely not in his bed in his dormitory. He was standing in the middle of a very dark hallway without a single recollection of where he was or how on earth he had gotten there. He rubbed at his goosepimpling arms, bare feet like ice against the stone floor of the castle, and he questioned his sleeping self on his common sense. He fumbled first for his wand holder and then in his pajama pockets for his wand, only to come up completely empty-handed and his brow furrowed in confusion because he never went anywhere now without his wand. How did I get here?

Of course, he didn't think himself daft enough to wander the castle in his bare feet, either, but here he was. He took a couple of shuffling steps forward, attempting to find his way to the wall in order to perhaps make his way to some sort of landmark to help him figure out what floor or which hallway he was even in. As he shuffled forward, his foot hit something uneven - a rug by the feel of it - and he stumbled, swearing lightly under his breath. “Bloody hell.” He muttered, voice still echoing in the empty hallway. 

For a brief moment, the air hung silent and still, and then to his utter relief, he heard a pattering of movement that seemed to indicate a member of the staff was around and could help him. Then not one, but four adults burst around the corner, one of them the very man he felt was the answer to his prayers. “Papa.” He breathed and moved quickly towards the quartet of professors, each one holding a well-lit wand to break through the darkness.

One man broke ahead of the pack, rushing to him and dropping to a knee in front of him. “What are you doing out of bed?” Papa shook him by the shoulders after checking him over for injury, anger mixed with relief coloring his tone, and Harry hoped his father would listen to him.

“I don’t know.” Harry shook his head and grabbed at the cloak his father dropped around his thinly clothed body, grateful that despite his obvious anger, he was aware that Harry would be freezing cold wearing only his pajamas. “I went to bed when I couldn't concentrate on my charms book and I woke up in a dark hallway.” He rubbed at his forehead and closed his eyes against the throb of pain. “I have a headache.”

Professor Sprout had a doubtful look on her face but Professors Minnie and Flitwick both nodded as if they believed him. Papa’s eyes peered into his intently and then he found himself crushed against his chest. “You were merely sleepwalking. Perhaps the stress of the evening…” Harry thought that could be logical, he wouldn’t argue against it anyway. “I will take you back to your dorms and fetch you a potion. Minerva, join me and we will continue our patrol from there.”

The other two professors quietly bid them a good evening and headed off in the opposite direction the little trio had started off in while Harry grasped his father’s hand tightly and smiled his thanks to his head of house when she transfigured a pair of slippers for him to wear to the dorms. “Thank you for taking me back. I have no idea where I am.”

“You somehow managed to walk yourself into the abandoned wing of the third floor.” Professor McGonagall answered briskly from his other side, her thin hand warm and comforting on his shoulder. “You are very lucky we happened to be nearby.”

He felt his stomach drop. There had been some warning from nearly all the staff at some point about the third floor and how they should all be staying away from it. Each one had emphasized that it was forbidden because it had been irreparably damaged due to a mishap during the summer, and so he had vowed to avoid it at all costs. Why would his subconscious take him there? Okay so he knew exactly why, he and Draco loved to explore these sorts of things, but that was at home. Here, he was at Hogwarts and under a lot of scrutiny from those around him, and it just wasn’t in his nature to completely break the rules. Bend them, sure, but not disregard them entirely. Based on the way both of the adults walking beside him were holding onto him, he wasn’t the only one worried. "Harry, once again you failed to use the safety device around your wrist I gave you for moments like this!"

That wasn’t fair, he had been extremely disoriented when he had first come to consciousness and by the time he had thought about using the bracelet, he had heard the footsteps. "I was about to when I heard you coming," Harry argued with a defensive bite to his tone.

"And what if I was the headmaster?" Severus demanded and Harry felt himself blanch. He absolutely didn’t want to come across the headmaster alone, but he had learned his lesson years ago. "What would you have done?" It was almost like Papa was expecting him to start misbehaving as soon as he became a Gryffindor. To the contrary, he was more than determined to follow the rules now that he was placed in the house of the foolhardy.

“I would alert you immediately.” He bit out acerbically. “I’m not an idiot.” He didn't like the assumption he would act impulsively like his house despite all evidence to the contrary.

“And I did not say you were,” Papa said sharply, tone telling Harry he was pushing his limits in his patience. But Harry was tired and irritated at being dismissed as a distracted Gryffindor that he paid no attention to the warning.

"I would like to think you would know you have taught me better than that." His voice shook in his anger. "Ron was trying to drag me off. I told Percy like I was supposed to, I didn't follow Ron like he wanted." His voice picked up strength and speed. “There were more footsteps than one set, so I knew it wasn’t the headmaster. I am responsible, I’m not careless, I’m not reckless, I’m not a Gryffindor!”

“Hush, child,” Papa said sternly, effectively breaking through Harry’s tirade and sending a sinking feeling of shame in his stomach at losing his temper. “I am not saying you are of these things, I am merely worried for your safety!”

“And you are a Gryffindor, Mr. Snape.” His head of house said dryly from beside his papa and his feelings of shame at his outburst only deepened. “That word, you will do well to remember, is not synonymous with carelessness or recklessness but instead determination and courage.”

“Someone should tell Ron that,” Harry muttered sullenly, kicking at a statue as they passed it. Mentioning Ron reminded him, “Papa, did Percy ever tell someone that Granger wasn’t at the feast?”

He watched as the two adults exchanged an intense glance over his head before looking at him. The sick feeling in his stomach only grew when Papa silently ran his fingers through his unkempt hair, seemingly unable to answer. Had he made a mistake in trusting someone else? Should he have found his father himself? “Percy came and found us, yes,” Papa answered before he could spiral too far out of control. “Thank you for remaining with your classmates instead of rushing off yourself.”

There was something hidden behind Papa’s words, some meaning he wasn’t catching, but he was too tired to investigate it further. Papa would tell him if it were something for him to know, so he knew better than to pry anyway. “I’m a Gryffindor, not an idiot.” He repeated. The way the two professors snorted at him told him they were amused by his ranting, and he pouted. He wasn’t trying to be amusing, he was serious. 

The rest of the walk was in near silence, and too soon for Harry’s liking the Fat Lady’s portrait came into view. He didn’t want his papa to leave, not now, but he kept his feelings inside and accepted the long good night hug before slipping into his common room, intent on returning to bed so he could deal with everything in the morning.

~~*~*~~  
1 November 1991  
Friday  
Gryffindor Dorms  
~~*~*~~

“Harry.”

He waved off the buzzing bug shouting around his head and turned to examine a pool of liquid on a leaf. He had to figure out what this was, he needed to know what it would do if he tasted it. He lifted the leaf slowly, hoping not to spill any of the unknown liquid.

“Harry.” The voice called again and he realized it wasn’t an insect and he wasn’t staring at a mysterious liquid about to drink it. He was in bed and the voice was Neville. Then he realized with a self-deprecating groan that if he was hearing Neville that meant it was most likely morning and he had overslept for once in his life if Neville, the boy who lived to sleep in, was waking him up.

“I’m awake,” Harry muttered and rolled himself into a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes in an effort to clear them of sleep enough to pry them open. Circe I’m tired. 

“You’re fine.” Neville sounded anxious, nervous, and Harry wondered if he had seen something the night before or was just still affected by the knowledge of a troll on the campus. “No one is up yet, and I couldn’t sleep, and you usually are awake by now so I thought..” His voice trailed off until almost silence. “Ron isn’t back.”

That cleared his vision. His torso twisted to see that Ron’s bed curtains were still wide open and the bedding crisply made as if no one had disturbed it all night. That was worrisome. “He went to find Granger, even though the prefects already knew she was missing,” Harry whispered in horror as some pieces clicked into place, his strange vision of the troll and a screaming Granger, of Professor McGonagall and his father’s behavior last night coupled with the still-missing Gryffindor was not making a pretty picture. “Do you know if she came back at all?”

Neville shook his head. “And none of the girls really like it when I try and talk to them and none of us can get up there to check anyway…” Harry nodded in understanding as he slid silently out of bed to quickly pull his robes on over his pajamas. There would be time later to change, he figured, and Neville was distressed and needed him now, not later.

“Come on, let’s go find out.” He wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, no matter how tired he still was, not if there was a possibility that the weird vision he had had last night had been true. If no girls were in the common room, maybe there would be someone already at breakfast. Unsurprisingly, the common room was completely void of human life. There was a note posted to the board by the portrait saying that they were free to go to breakfast, that the danger was passed.

Unfortunately, the great hall was mostly empty as well. There were a few students at other tables, but only one other at the Gryffindor table and it was a third-year neither Harry nor Neville knew. However, at the Slytherin table, he saw both of the elder Parkinson, who seemed to catch sight of him just as he did them because they stood simultaneously and rushed towards him, wearing identical expressions of relief mixed with concern. 

“You’re alright, thank merlin.”

“You weren’t stupid like I thought you’d be!”

Harry smiled at Anise and scowled at Basil. “Thanks, I would think you’d know me better than that by now, Basil.” While he appreciated their sibling-like concern for him, he did think he had made a better name for himself than Draco had. He could see the blond running off into danger, but Harry? No.

“You’re such an arse,” Anise muttered under her breath, giving her brother a dark look of disapproval, one he just smirked at. She rolled her eyes and addressed Harry again. “Pansy and Blaise made sure Draco was firmly sequestered in the dorms last night,” she assured him, and his shoulders immediately relaxed from the worry he had held since hearing about the troll.

“Good.” He nudged Neville who had been studiously studying the ground at his feet instead of paying attention to the elder Slytherin students. “Neville, this is Basil and Anise Parkinson. They’re Pansy’s older siblings.” That brought up the timid boy’s head and he gave them a weak smile.

“‘Lo.” He said quietly and they nodded at him with calculating looks. Harry then took pity on Neville and directed the conversation back to last night.

“Do you know if anyone was found out of the dorms?” He asked, hoping they might have heard if Ron or Granger had been caught or were hiding or...he tore his thoughts away from his vision again, refusing to think on the horrible fate for the pair were it to be true. His heart sank when they shook their heads.

“Neither of us are prefects, and none of them would say anything when they returned to the dorms,” Anise explained a little further and Harry sighed but gave a little nod of acceptance. He would just have to find his father and ask him personally.

“You can sit with us until one of your friends comes down.” Basil offered and Harry grinned at the older boy before nudging Neville again.

They exchanged a long look, Harry trying to discern if Neville would be okay sitting at a different table today but unable to read him well. Finally, the other boy gave a wobbly smile and a nearly indiscernible nod and Harry’s grin turned into a beaming smile. Basil sat across from the two Gryffindors while Anise took a seat beside Harry. Neville chose to stare at his plate instead of looking around, not that Harry could blame him. He took a slice of toast of a plate and nibbled at it lightly, stomach rolling too much for him to have much of an appetite.

He kept an eye on the staff table, hoping to see the moment Papa or Professor McGonagall entered so he could ask if Ron and Granger were still missing, or if they had been found. “Harry, you should eat something.” Anise encouraged, and he mechanically bit the toast and chewed slowly, barely tasting what he was eating.

He missed the concerned looks being passed over his head, but he couldn’t miss the gentle touch to his shoulder as Pansy passed him to sit quietly next to Neville. “Good morning, Harry.” For once, she seemed aware that Harry was in a fragile state that morning and anything else would send him to tears.

“Lo,” he said sullenly, Neville twitching silently when the Slytherin girl sat next to him. “Where are Blaise and Draco?”

“Showers.” She murmured, helping herself to some toast and jam. “Prefect Gemma came in early and told all of us that our first classes this morning are canceled for an assembly.” She sounded calm but her eyes betrayed her anxiety.

Harry felt his stomach create knots. An assembly that canceled classes sounded like it was an emergency, and the club held by a knobby troll hand flashed through his mind once more. “When is the assembly?” He silently cursed his habit of silently entering and exiting his dorms without alerting anyone to his presence. He wondered if Percy was looking for him and Neville this morning and if he would worry if he didn’t find them.

“In place of our first class.” She answered, voice far more timid than he’d ever heard her sound before. “I think...I think someone was hurt.”

That was Harry’s fear, too. Only he had a memory that flashed over and over in his mind helping his fear along. He wasn’t sure he would survive his anxieties if he had to wait another hour to find out, either. 

“There you two are!” Harry spun on his seat to come face-to-face with an extremely visibly upset Percy Weasley, his glasses a bit skewed on his face and his hair at maximum poofiness. “Get over to the Gryffindor table, please, so we can be in our places for assembly.”

Harry arched an eyebrow incredulously. “We have an hour, Perce.” But he was already cleaning up the mess he had made mangling the toast. He knew better than to argue against the prefects, he didn’t want to be one who lost his house points. He didn’t want to give his housemates any more reason to decide to dislike him.

“I am aware of the time!” The red-head snapped before muttering an apology under his breath. “We decided in our impromptu prefects’ meeting last night that we would keep our houses together as much as we can today.”

“Good on you for making sure everyone knew that.” Basil sneered at Percy, who sneered impressively back.

“It isn’t my fault your prefects didn’t catch you in time.” Percy turned back to the two Gryffindors. “Just for today, Harry.” 

Harry brushed the last of the crumbs off the table, nodded and stood, Neville quickly following suit. “Tell Draco to meet at our table in the library for our free period.” He called to Pansy over his shoulder, who was already being sandwiched between her siblings. She nodded with a thumbs up, mouth full of toast, and he followed Percy to his house table. He was not looking forward to this assembly, not at all.

~~*~*~~  
Severus Snape’s Office  
~~*~*~~

That was the worst assembly that could have possibly been held!

Harry’s body felt numb as he stumbled his way into his father's office, barely aware of his surroundings as he grabbed at one of the chairs in front of the desk in an effort to keep himself standing. The headmaster’s words were whirling around, the description of the horrible bloodbath in the bathroom the two first-year Gryffindors had been found in terrifying him and nearly drowning him in his guilt.

“Good morning son.” Papa’s soothing voice broke through his spiraling thoughts and he gasped in a series of shallow breaths in an effort to get himself breathing again.

Harry ran to his father when he stood and held his arms out. He collapsed against his papa’s chest, his anxieties exhibiting as trembling when he felt arms wrap around him. Professor Dumbledore had said something about his father being the one to firecall St. Mungos and he felt sick knowing his father was probably the first one there. “You found them?” He asked quickly, pulling back enough to peer up at his papa’s face as he rubbed away any tears that might be trying to form.

It’s tight and hard and Harry feared the worst. “Yes,” Papa said finally and the anxiety only bloomed into sight panic. “I along with Professor McGonagall found both Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger.” There was more, that much was written all over his papas face despite his efforts to remain emotionless and he knew, he just knew that the strange horrifying vision he had seen had been real.

“I saw it.” He choked out, and Papa’s face turned ashy as his anxiety continued to churn until he wanted to vomit. “I thought I was just worried, I didn’t think it was real. Oh circe, it was real Papa it was real.” He had no idea what to do or what else to say, all he knew at that moment was terror.

“What was it, Harry?” He tried to anchor onto the smooth baritone, encouraging and coaxing his answer out of him.

He swallowed hard and fixed his eyes firmly on his papa’s. “It’ll be easier if you...if you just…” He couldn't get the words out and his throat worked painfully. “Please.” He managed and Papa’s face pinched before he nodded in agreement. He conjured up the memory, painful though it was, and gave Papa the chance to skim what he feared to be true.

When he paled even further, his head hanging and brow furrowing, Harry had no more doubt left about the validity of his vision. “The headmaster was not lying when he said that they are alive, Harry,” Papa reassured quickly, most likely sensing he was about to ask. “That is indeed the bathroom I found them in. Your, well I hesitate to refer to it as such, but your vision only confirms my hypothesis that Mr. Weasley found her after the troll did as his injuries were not as severe. They are currently in St. Mungos being treated for their injuries and will return when they are able.”

Now the only question Harry had was how he had seen all that happening, how had he seen through the eyes of the troll? “I’m not a seer, am I?” He was already hating the fact he was the Boy-Who-Lived, he did not need to add some other rare ability he would be unable to hide. He was still fearing the backlash once it came out he was a parselmouth.

Papa had the gall to look a tiny bit amused at the question. “No, you are not a seer, son.” But the amusement immediately faded and worry replaced it once more. “You are not a seer.” He repeated this time in a tone that told Harry he had no clue what to do with the knowledge Harry had just given him, and the boy was suddenly filled with a longing to be young once again when his problems were ones Papa had all the answers for. Why did he see the troll attack? How did he see it?

“What do I do?” His throat was so tight the words came out strangled and Papa hugged him tighter.

“You hold your head high and carry on, son. You are a Snape, and a Potter.” Papa pulled back and held him at arm's length to stare intently at him. “And if anyone threatens or attempts to harm you, call me and I will come.”

“What about class?” Potions were dangerous, and even though Papa taught the fifth through seventh years, mishaps still happened and Harry knew he was loathe to leave them unattended with potions brewing.

“You are more important than classes.” He said firmly, putting aside any negative, self-deprecating ideas Harry might have been forming. “I planned on setting reading and an in-class essay today for all my classes anyway.”

Harry figured that was smart. No one would be able to focus, anyway. “Anytime?” He whispered, fingers twisting around themselves. “Even if it’s late at night?”

They stilled when Papa placed a large hand gently over his. “Always, Harry. And if for some unlikely reason I am unavailable, Remus’ rooms are just down the hall.” He stood, teaching robes sliding fluidly back into place and he looked down at Harry with warm eyes and a stern mouth. “Now off to classes. I would not be surprised if I am not the only professor to adjust their plans for the day, nor will any deny you should you request leave from class today. It was a traumatic event that transpired last night, and your professors will be made aware of your vision.”

He lunged at Papa and wrapped his arms around his waist, squeezing tightly. “Thank you.” He sniffled a little and sighed into the warm chest. He could face anything today just with the reassurance Papa would always be there for him.

The chest he was leaning against rumbled as Papa chuckled. “Go, Snidget, and conquer the day.” He gave Harry a gentle pat on his shoulder before turning him towards the door. “I love you, always and forever.”

Harry took the hint and grinned up at his father as he crossed the office to leave and make his way to class. “Love you, forever and always!” He called just before he vanished out of the door frame, walking as fast as he could so he wouldn’t be late for potions. He’d hate to miss claiming his seat next to Draco and be forced to work with Neville. He liked his new friend, but the boy was hopeless with potions, even with Professor Slughorn’s careful instructions, and had already managed to melt two cauldrons since school started.

As he slipped thankfully into his usual spot with Draco, he eyed his Gryffindor friend sitting alone on the bench and vowed to figure out how to help him stop melting caldrons. Maybe it would be a good distraction from the troll and the two injured first-year Gryffindors.

~~*~*~~  
Gryffindor Common Room  
~~*~*~~

Surprisingly, it was only a few students who were on the “Harry is a Potter and should have done something” train - namely first and second years who have that false bravado of “well I would have gone had I known”. No one had confronted him on it all day, just whispered behind his back whenever he walked by, but he knew it would be only a matter of time before he was ambushed by someone. He just didn’t think it would be in his common room, figuring instead that if his roommates had a problem, they would want the privacy and secrecy of the dorms for the confrontation. He supposed he needed to remember that these were Gryffindors he was living with, not Ravenclaw or Slytherins, and the idea of subtly was greatly lost on most of the members of his house.

“Hey, Potter, wanna talk to you.” 

Seamus’ voice called loudly the moment Harry closed the portrait door and he sighed loudly at the interruption, as well as all the eyes in the room swung his way. He wanted to study and go to bed, not face the inquisition. He looked longingly at the stairs before sighing again in resignation. “You’re talking to me right now. You don’t need to announce it.”

Before Seamus could respond, there was a movement from near the fireplace and Harry looked to see the sixth year prefect, Franklin Jones, coming towards them. “Is there a problem?” He asked tightly, his charms book held in his hand, obviously annoyed at his studies being interrupted.

“Just that there’s a coward in the Gryffindor dorms.” Seamus shot back and Harry tried to ignore the stab of guilt in his stomach. 

“Oh come off it, Finnigan.” Another voice called from a group of sixth years preparing for a presentation the next day. “You're both eleven.”

Harry was actually surprised that not everyone was thinking the same things as Seamus was. “What would I have done to take down a troll?” Harry asked quietly.

Seamus puffed up in indignation. “I’d have lit it on fire.”

“Of course you would,” Dean muttered from his spot by Seamus’ side and poked at his friend. “You’re a fire obsessed menace.”

“Thanks!” Seamus said brightly and Harry rolled his eyes. It was no surprise Seamus was proud of that title. “Bet your da’ would’ve gone after the troll, though.”

Of that Harry had no doubt. “Yes, probably, but I’m not James Potter. I’m Harry and my own person.”

“Hear, hear.” He heard muttered from behind him and grinned at Neville’s continued support. It seemed he found a true friend in his dorms, after all. Despite his fear of being unable to get along with rash, hot-headed people, he had managed to find one other person who was more like him, sorted to a house that seemed not to suit.

“I would’ve gone after the troll.” Seamus boasted loudly, arms crossed and a hard look on his face. Harry thought it looked rather comical for the other eleven year old to try and look that cross. He looked more constipated than anything else.

Franklin cleared his throat. “It is not cowardice to be sensible enough to avoid tackling a troll.” A book sailed through the air from the direction of the sixth years accompanied by a, ‘learn to read, idiot’. “That was not necessary!” Franklin scolded before sighing at the Fantastic Beasts book thoughtfully. “Though they’re not necessarily wrong.” He picked the book up off the floor and handed it to Seamus. “Try reading about what a troll can do to even a prepared wizard and then maybe you’ll realize the foolishness of what you say you would have done. Two of your classmates were already nearly killed, do you really think Harry should have made it a third?”

Harry didn’t hold high hopes for Seamus relenting but he used the time Franklin used to lecture Seamus to snag Neville and head up to the dorms. Maybe they could study in the library until curfew and successfully avoid Seamus the rest of the night. 

~~*~*~~  
2 November 1991  
Saturday  
Entrance Hallway  
~~*~*~~

  
He had already eaten, having completed his usual morning routine of meditation and shower before sitting in the Great Hall the moment it opened for breakfast. He did this every morning in an effort to avoid as many people as possible, and today was no exception. Draco sat down about 10 minutes after he did, just like usual, followed by Neville and Pansy a minute or two later. Blaise did his usual dash in at the last moment in order to catch as much sleep as possible, and as such Harry had finished breakfast long before his friends. After extracting promises that they would meet at the pitch for the first quidditch game of the year, Harry had practically sprinted all the way to his father’s quarters to fetch his beloved Gemma. He had hoped that the normalcy of the morning thus far was an indication as to how the rest of his Saturday would go: peaceful.

It was not to be. He had barely stepped off the staircase onto the Entrance Hall when a voice harshly called out from the shadows. “You’re a coward, Potter.” The same boy who had spoken so cryptically to him in the library was now stalking towards him with a strange fire blazing in his eyes. “You’re a pathetic coward!”

Harry was taken aback. What did Theodore Nott know about him? Nothing. He had had a single conversation with the other boy, not that he could consider a weird warning a conversation. “I am not a coward, I’m just not an idiot.” How was choosing not to chase after a troll being a coward? 

“You don’t deserve to be a Gryffindor!” It seemed Nott had more things to add on to what he was already snarling at him and he hated his decision to meet his friends at the field rather than go together as a group. He hated confrontations like this. He had expected this from Seamus, to be honest, but not from anyone else. Especially since no one had confronted him the day before like would be expected.

“You know I never wanted to be one, right?” Harry asked softly and the Slytherin boy looked taken aback at that. “I wanted the hat to put me in Slytherin with my friends.”

“You, you did?” His tone was breathy, disbelieving, and then hardened. “So Mother was correct, the death eaters have converted Harry Potter to the Dark Lord.”

He felt like he was not only on a different planet but in a different plane of existence where their logic was far skewed from his own. “What? No! Why would I want to join the man who murdered my parents?!” 

The other boy merely arched a brow. “Why indeed, Potter?” He was completely confused, how had Theodore come to that conclusion?

“It’s Snape.” Harry finally snapped. “Why do you have a problem with me?” He’d never had this much issue even from Ron who had been convinced for years that Draco was simply trying to lure Harry to the dark side so he could sacrifice him to bring back the dark lord. But to have a Slytherin convinced of this, to be so certain that Harry had been turned into an evil little mini dark lord, was utterly preposterous.

“I don’t have one, not yet anyway,” Theodore said calmly, though his eyes carried a completely different emotion with how they bore into Harry’s intently. “All I need is proof that you’re not as good as your Gryffindor parents. You’re not off to a good start, you know.”

Circe save him from those who decided they knew who someone was based on their blood relatives. How on earth could he be reckless and rash just like James if he hadn’t been raised by him? Instead, he had been raised by a man whose middle name should probably have been Caution. “My father is Severus Snape.” His papa’s words had been drilled long ago into his mind and he repeated it back to the other boy who actually seemed surprised by his declaration. “Being brave and having courage does not mean being foolish.” He eyed Theodore and decided he of all those who have confronted him would understand where he was coming from. He was, after all, the child of Slytherins and in their house. “Self-preservation is not cowardice. I’m not going to go looking for trouble just to prove to you that I have courage.” Though it won’t stop him from researching the best way to handle a troll in case another one broke into the school. He would not be caught unprepared again.

“You don’t deserve to be a Gryffindor!” Theo snapped, apparently flustered enough to be repeating himself.

Deserve? What was all of this blathering about whether or not he was meant to be in his house? “I never wanted to be….” He cuts himself off with a sharp jerk of his head, reminding himself about his personal rule of not arguing with idiots, instead choosing to focus on keeping his breathing even. “What you think doesn’t matter. I know that I am a good person, and I know my biological parents would be proud of me.”

“And how would you know?” The sneer the other boy held was finally worthy of the house he had been sorted in, though it looked strange on the otherwise timid boy. “You’re friends with the children of Death Eaters, and Death Eaters don’t associate with Blood Traitors and Muggleborn.”

Harry didn’t even try to reign in his temper. “My friends and their families are not Death Eaters, not anymore. And I know this because my parent’s friends tell me this.” He was going to positively throttle this stupid idiot if he didn’t stop insulting his friends and family.

Theodore opened his mouth to respond, something loud and vicious if the inhale of breath was any indication, but a clearing of a throat had the pair instantly backing off of each other.

“I really don’t want to pass out detentions on a Saturday, it’s not why I applied for the head girl position, but I will if I must.” Harry whirled around to see Head Girl Michela, a seventh year Ravenclaw well known for her strict application of the rules. It was the second time in as many days he had been rescued by an older student from someone of his own year. “Need I remind you of Hogwarts School Charter 3-2 that strictly forbids fighting in the hallways?”

He had heard enough about Charter 3-2 from over the years to understand her meaning. “No, ma’am.” The boys said in unison, wide-eyed in fear at her sudden appearance and the threat of detention. He wondered what Papa would have told his Slytherins in the secrecy of their dorms that would have Theodore looking so terrified at the threat.

“Sorry, Michela,” Harry said softly and the Slytherin boy repeated his words though Harry was certain he sounded less than sincere in his apology. Nonetheless, she just smiled at both of them.

“Best be off to the pitch before the game begins.” She drifted off as quickly as she had appeared, heading up the staircase that went up to the classrooms and the library. Theodore just smirked at him and dashed out of the front doors, leaving them slightly open instead of ensuring they closed behind him, and a flustered Harry behind.

Harry stared at the ajar door, mulling over the other boy’s words. What if he was right? What if one of his friends' parents were still on the side of the Dark Lord and were merely biding their time…?

< “Don’t mind the words of empty-headed fools.” > Gemma hissed from his hair, effectively breaking his train of thought, and he scowled at the ceiling in her direction. He followed after Theo out the door and made sure the door clicked behind him. No sense in leaving doors open that didn’t need to remain so.

< “I’m not.” > He lied, the whistle beginning the Gryffindor Slytherin match that signaled the beginning of the quidditch season sounding from the direction of the pitch. He quickened his steps, nearly jogging and hoping Gemma had a tight grip on his ponytail with her tail.

She continued on talking, seemingly unconcerned with his growing irritation or the speed at which they were moving. < “Others actions are not your responsibility.” > In fact, she seemed to be enjoying the fast speed at which he was moving.

< “I know!” > He could ignore her, but he was already fired up from an unsatisfactory conclusion with Theodore Nott so his irritation bled into his words.

Her response was a sharp whap with her tail on his nose and he swatted at it in irritation. < “Stop that, Harry.” > She said sharply and he ceased reluctantly, still irritated and wanting a way to let it out without causing a fight. < “I have known you long enough and know that you are overthinking that strange boy’s words. Put it out of your mind until you can speak with Papa Severus.” > 

Even her words combined with seeing Neville’s grin as he slid on the bench next to him wasn’t enough to put him at ease. He didn’t like that there was someone around him who thought he was destined to be a death eater, purely based on the fact he was the son of Severus Snape and friend to the Malfoys and Parkinsons. His only comfort was that at least the headmaster was leaving him well enough alone. He should have known his luck would run out, eventually. 

~~*~*~~  
9 November 1991  
Saturday  
Staff Quarters Hallway  
~~*~*~~

“Mr. Snape, how delighted I am to see you.”

It was the headmaster, sure, but the greeting was so far from what he was accustomed to Harry looked around just to make sure he was the one being addressed. The headmaster never used his proper surname, choosing instead to always emphasize the fact he was also a Potter. Just to be safe, he immediately wrapped a hand around his wrist and pressed. He knew not to be alone with the old man, and he felt a cold chill run down his spine.

He was on his way to fetch Gemma before meeting Papa and Draco in the entry hall. They were going to be walking down to Hogsmeade to meet with the Malfoys because yesterday had been Estelle’s 4th birthday and today they were going to celebrate. He hadn’t even made it off the staircase before coming face to face with the erratic Headmaster of Hogwarts. 

“Good morning, Sir,” Harry responded respectfully, hoping Papa was on his way quickly. “How are you this morning?” He watched as the old man looked around the hallway, almost as if seeing if anyone were around watching or listening and his anxiety mounted.

This couldn't be good.

But instead of being attacked as he feared, he watched as the headmaster seemed to relax and he smiled at Harry, icy blue eyes twinkling under his half-moon spectacles. “You are a brave lad.” The twinkle faded as quickly as it came and Harry wondered what was going through his mind. Brave? Where did he get that? What was he using for a reference point? “Two are one and not unheard.”

He felt his face scrunch in confusion. Wait, what? “I’m…” He paused. What did he even say to that? “I’m sorry?”

At his uncertainty, a look of urgency crossed the old mans’ face as he pressed, “two are one, and not unheard. More than desired are rolling about. Can you remember this?”

Well, that hadn’t clarified anything. “I’m...I’m not sure I understand, headmaster. What am I supposed to be remembering?” This was turning into the most bizarre, confusing conversation he had ever had, and he wasn’t sure he could forget this conversation, let alone understand it.

Frustration replaced the urgency and Harry felt relief through the perplexity as he finally heard footsteps coming down the stairs, fast-paced and light. At least someone was coming. “It is important to read between the lines. I fear…” His voice trailed as a strange look twisted across his face. Then the old man sighed and passed Harry with a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Once again, metal and stone will soon have ears. Until we meet again, Mr. Potter.” He watched the headmaster vanish around the bend and a murmured ‘good morning, Severus,’ told him it had indeed been Papa on his way to him.

He nearly called out but remembered at the last minute he was in a hallway. He waited impatiently until he saw his father round the same corner of the staircase the headmaster had vanished around. “Professor, he came out of nowhere.” It seemed to be Professor Dumbledore’s modus operandi, pop out of the shadows and vanish again without warning.

“You did well,” Papa assured him, a hand gently squeezing his shoulder and they fell into step together, both making their way to their quarters to prepare for the day. Harry used the walk to relate all what the headmaster had said to him, and for awhile Papa was silent.

It wasn’t until they entered their rooms that Papa turned to him. “Continue to stay away from him, as you were instructed to at the beginning of the year.”

It felt like a dismissal, like a punch to gut. “But what did he actually mean by what he said?” It felt like he was trying to tell Harry something, but nothing made sense, nothing actually fit as a complete idea.

“It was simply gibberish,” Papa said dryly, tone clearly stating he felt that the old man was completely mad and nothing he said had any sort of merit. “Now go brush your teeth and retrieve Gemma before we are late for her royal highnesses birthday.”

Harry snorted at the very appropriate description of the spoiled little girl and obeyed, putting the encounter out of his mind for the time being so he could enjoy the day. 

It wouldn't be until he was in bed later that night, after a day of food and merriment and shopping and an evening of studying and laughter, that Harry would find a name for the tone the weary old man had bade his farewell in: hopelessness. But why? What would the headmaster be hopeless about? Was he the one who had released the troll and was disappointed Harry hadn’t followed it? Or was something - or someone - else at work here? 

It would be a long time before he managed to fall into a restless sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated the prefect who spoke to the boys in the dorms, thanks for Shortsandramblings for remind me that Percy would not be in a good state of mind atm. Thanks for pointing that out!


	8. Chapter Seven: Many Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the length of the wait again. I hit a roadblock with some of the scenes in this chapter and my muse was all “hey, these stories over here haven’t had anything added to their outlines in a while, you should work on those!” 
> 
> I love each and every one of you that takes the time to leave kudos and comments, it keeps me going through hard times.

~~*~*~~

10 November 1991

Sunday

Minerva McGonagall’s Office

~~*~*~~

He watched from the doorway as his head of house wrote on a sheet of parchment, white-feathered quill dancing across the page as she scrawled furiously. He glanced again at the parchment in his hand, his professor’s tidy handwriting ordering him to her office as soon as he finished breakfast. He had eaten as slowly as possible and had delayed himself for as long as he dared. His anxieties about the looming meeting nearly overwhelmed him. What had he done wrong?

“I’m...I’m not in trouble, am I?” 

Harry stood in the doorway to the Deputy Headmistress’s office, unable to halt the nervous fidgeting of his fingers against his robe sleeves and the crumpled summons note. He didn’t think he’d done anything to warrant being summoned to the office. First of all, despite his bravado with Draco all summer, he wasn’t quite ready to throw caution to the wind and break rules willy-nilly like Draco seemed determined to do. 

Furthermore, Seamus had backed down and begun ignoring him at the realization Harry had at least one of the prefects on his side and Theodore had been avoiding him after the confrontation in the hallway. And on the occasion the Slytherin first year _ would _ look at Harry, it would be in looks he couldn’t quite interpret. Draco would tell him to ignore the prat, that he was only trying to get a rise out of him, but Harry wasn’t convinced that the other boy didn’t mean him harm in some way. However, he had conceded to dropping it for the time being when it was clear Theodore had no intention of confronting him again. And with the two classmates who annoyed him the most away from the school, his life had been relatively quiet outside of time with his friends.

Her dry amusement brought him back to the present. “Not at all, Harry, I just wanted to check in on you. I have meetings with all my first years by the Christmas holiday. Though I find it concerning that your mind jumps immediately there.” Her raised eyebrow seemed to silently question him on any potential misdeeds.

He felt his cheeks heat at the implications. He really hadn’t done anything, at least not that he was aware of. “Sorry. I just, I wasn't expecting...this.” He finished lamely, still not fully entering the room, unsure what he was doing here.

“Yes, well.” She coughed a little and motioned for him to sit. He obeyed, closing the door quietly behind him and taking his seat as she continued to speak. “I intended to meet with you the day after Halloween, but everything with the troll and, well, I am sorry for how busy I’ve been these past few days.”

“Oh. Erm.” He shrugged helplessly, wondering what she wanted him to say. “I’m, I suppose I’m doing fine.” He understood just how busy she was, and honestly wasn’t sure why she wanted to talk to him. He didn’t think he was having any problems. Maybe Papa put her up to this?

She wasn’t satisfied with that answer apparently. “How are your classes?” She pressed, and he smiled involuntarily at the thought of his lessons. 

“Great! It’s much more fun being with classmates instead of being by myself.” That wasn’t a lie by any stretch. As much as he had enjoyed his private tutoring and his French and Latin lessons with Draco, he was absolutely loving having a multitude of peers to bounce ideas off of during lectures. “I wish I had more of my classes with my friends, but that’s not something I can change.” At least he had Neville every class, and he had been trying to accept his place in Gryffindor, even if he hated it and some days were near impossible. “Oh, and I’ve been getting headaches nearly every day. Sometimes after classes, sometimes after dinner.” His vision check at the beginning of the year had confirmed Papa’s potion had held and his vision was perfect, so he knew it wasn’t due to his eyes.

“Any class in particular?” The concern in her eyes bled into her voice and it only grew when he shook his head in the negative because...no. There wasn’t any sort of a pattern, not really. He had thought they were because of Granger’s grating know-it-all voice in class, but they had persisted even with her at St. Mungos, and he was stumped. He had headaches nearly every day, but not in any sort of a pattern he could discern. “Well,” she sighed, “it’s worth having Poppy give you a check-up, just to be safe.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He had no intention of going to the hospital wing, but he agreed with a nod to avoid further reprimand.

She then moved back to the topic he had hoped she would avoid. “How are you settling into Gryffindor?” 

Despite his best efforts, he wasn’t, not really, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit that to his head of house. “I know that Neville feels as lost as I do.” He finally whispered, refusing to look up to see her disappointment in his words.

“Harry.” It was the softness of her normally harsh tones that brought his eyes up to hers. He squirmed on his seat at the expression on her face as she watched him. She _ was _ one of his main tutors growing up, had doted on him almost as much as Nana did every time he went to Uncle Moony’s childhood home. It was only natural she’d want to check in on him. _ It isn’t as if I’ve gone out of my way to talk to her. _ He thought guiltily and vowed to find each of his tutors and assure them he was doing fine. 

“I hate it.” He admitted lowly. “It’s so...Seamus shouts all the time, and Dean doesn’t help, so Neville and I hide in the library when we can. Ron won’t make it any better once he gets back. He isn’t exactly a quiet Weasley.” Which reminded him, he wanted to ask her about the two missing Gryffindors. “Do you know when they’ll return?” 

Professor McGonagall gave him a look that told him that she would not be deterred from the topic of his house so easily. “Mr. Weasley will return after lunch today. If you could be so kind as to inform your housemates so that any festivities can be planned accordingly so you can still meet curfew.”

“Yes, Professor.” He wondered how long it would take upon hearing the news for the Irish first year in his dorms to either try to find or try to _ make _ rum.

“You may also inform Mr. Finnegan that if he attempts to procure alcohol, he will be in detention for the rest of the term. And that goes for the rest of you lot, as well.”

He laughed at that because he had just been thinking about the exact same thing. “What about Hermione Granger?”

The transfiguration professor’s face grew grim. “Due to the nature and extent of her injuries, Ms. Granger will be out until the end of the month at least. I will update you on her return so a similar round of festivities may be planned for then, as well.”

Harry barely resisted making a face at the near-order. He would rather not have a return party for either of them, but he would do as requested and pass the message along. He certainly won’t be warning off Seamus from alcohol. If the thought hadn’t crossed the other boy’s mind, Harry wasn’t about to _ give _ him the idea, and if the thought did occur to him, it would be his own idiocy that would get him in trouble and Harry had no intention of stopping that. 

Then he felt bad for feeling that way about the two injured students. Despite his dislike of them, he didn’t want them maimed like that. “Thank you, professor.” 

She nodded. “I think if you assist in the planning, it will help you adjust to your house, Harry.” The professor stated firmly, tone indicating she meant it as an order, and he nearly scowled at her in response. She must have read it on his face, however, because she continued without letting him speak. “Accepting the unchangeable is something all children must learn, regardless of House placement, Harry.” Her brisk Scottish brogue was softened by her smile at him. “I know you know this, and I know you’ve been trying. This is merely a friendly suggestion I feel might help your success along.”

He still didn’t want to, but he knew she was probably right in suggesting it. “I’ll think about it.” He finally agreed and rubbed his hands against his knees. He was going to be late to meet with his friends to study for their potions practical, and he now had to run around and find the other first-year Gryffindors before he could find his friends.

She seemed to accept his response because her questioning veered to safer grounds. “Did you have any questions for me Harry? Did you have anything you needed to speak about?

Something pressed at the edge of his consciousness, something he knew he should remember and discuss with a responsible adult, but he couldn't draw the memory forward and so he shook his head. "No, ma'am." But as soon as he remembered what he needed to, he would return immediately. “Not at the moment. I do have plans to study today, but I can’t remember any questions I have for you right now.” But he felt like he _ should _ and he hated that feeling.

Professor Minnie didn’t seem too happy with that response and Harry felt a guilty twist in his chest. It wasn’t like he was hiding something, he just couldn’t remember. “Well, I’ll dismiss you with a reminder from your father, and I’ll emphasize that I agree with him. Please stay as far from Albus as you can. The headmaster is quite unpredictable this year.”

_ This again? _ “Yes, I know.” But through his irritation, the use of the headmaster's first name directly next to his title finally triggered what he had been trying to remember. "Oh! I remember my question!” He looked away from her _ very _ amused look. The trauma of his sorting had overridden his curiosity until he couldn’t recall the hat's words, but they came back to him as soon as the two names were linked verbally. He really hadn’t had much time to think about his sorting, other than he wished he were in Slytherin every time he had to go to a class or a meal without his friends. “Is there a reason the hat would differentiate between the headmaster and Albus?" 

She gave him a long searching look. "Perhaps you could give me the full context."

He repeated the words the hat had said when he had been sorted as best as he could remember. “He said that while Albus himself might be lenient and allow him to put me in Slytherin like I asked, the Headmaster wanted me elsewhere.”

To his surprise, she gave a little laugh. "That hat has spoken in riddles since Godric created him. I am not surprised he said such a thing to you. Thank you for telling me, and try not to worry too much about it.”

“You don't think it means anything?” He knew he sounded very skeptical because he very much was. It sounded like the hat was trying to tell him Albus Dumbledore had charmed the hat to do his bidding. That wasn’t _ nothing _.

She gave a look that said she thought he was overthinking it all. “I think it means the magic of the hat is tied to that of that whoever holds the title of Headmaster, and if the headmaster is unstable, well. You can easily see that the hat will spew nonsense.” When his glare deepened, her stern expression faded to one of understanding. “A lot of people hoped for your placement to Gryffindor, Harry. That doesn’t mean they influenced the hat’s decision. Albus’ greatest wishes could not force or even truly compel the hat to place you where you aren’t suited.”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted, he hated that answer. Because it meant that he _ was a Gryffindor _. That despite his upbringing, despite his first Coming of Age ceremony, he was a stupid, reckless, idiotic Gryffindor simply because his parents were, and he had their DNA. Because if the headmaster hadn’t forced his placement into Gryffindor, that was the only thing left: that something in Harry was Gryffindor enough it overtook any of the other qualities he held. 

And that thought frightened him more than anything he had dealt with so far in his short time on earth.

~~*~*~~

13 November 1991

Wednesday

Slytherin Table

~~*~*~~

It was the beginning of dinner as he and Neville entered the Great Hall, Harry immediately veering towards the Slytherin table to take his usual seat with Draco, Blaise, and Pansy while Neville headed off to sit with Ron. He grinned up at his father, who nodded at him with a small smile of his own. Papa had been watching him a lot more since Harry had been pulled into his head of house’s office, and he knew it was because she had told him he didn’t feel like he belonged and now Papa was overly worried about him. Again.

Harry sat facing his house, pondering the differences he was seeing between the Ron he had known growing up and the Ron he had been seeing since Sunday dinner. The Ron from before would have wasted no time in dragging Harry off to do something dangerous like _ face a mountain troll _, but the Ron he was with that night was so cautious and less willing to leap into the unknown that even after two days Harry still wasn’t sure what to make of him.

It had been two weeks since the troll and severe maiming of both Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, and only two days since Ron had returned and thrown off all of Harry’s previous conceptions about the other boy into a tailspin.

It had been glaringly clear from the get-go, from the lack of food consumption at dinner to hiding in a corner rather than dealing with the roughhousing “party” Seamus and Dean had deemed appropriate that night Ron had returned. While Seamus had not gotten any alcohol, he had decided sugar was a good alternative.

Even if the house-elves had long since repaired the damage, Harry was still angry about his ripped bed curtains, caused by the other two boys’ Tarzan impersonations that had been the catalyst for Harry and Neville practically dragging a shaking Ron out of the dorms and into the quiet common room. And then, when Harry had suggested some gentle rule-breaking by the way of being in the corridors after curfew - purely in an effort to bring up Ron’s spirits mind - he had been surprised when the suggestion had been met with a frantic shaking of the head no. It had taken Harry showing Ron the map his father and friends had made during their school years, and that they would be just fine to wander without being caught because they saw no professors near them before Ron would consent.

Even Neville had been more willing to venture out, and he hated breaking rules more than Harry did.

“Think the troll knocked some sense into him?” Pansy muttered and Harry shrugged a little as he chewed his potato. Ron nibbled at a slice of buttered bread, but largely ignored the rest of the meal. It was the same at every meal since Sunday night. Ron would eat enough for a baby bird and then stare listlessly at his plate until the meal was over. 

Harry was worried about the other Gryffindor, despite their dislike of each other over the years. Anyone should be, in his opinion. His memories took him down the dark hallway that Sunday, Ron and Neville flanking Harry as they strolled quietly along, watching the map every now and then to ensure they were still alone. Ron hadn’t said much, but he’d listened rapturously as Harry shared with both of the other boys about how he had woken up in the middle of the third-floor corridor, alone and cold and confused.

“It’s possible,” Draco responded with a little frown. “He’s acting very not like himself, that is for sure.” This was said as Neville slipped a slice of treacle tart onto Ron’s plate.

Harry knew he was right to worry, especially if Draco, whose dislike of Ron was even greater than that of Harry’s, was concerned. They had ventured far that night, to the third floor, despite everything in Harry’s brain and stomach telling him that they absolutely shouldn’t, but he ignored all his warning signals in favor of trying to help someone he didn’t even like.

_ Draco’s right, I’m such a Hufflepuff. _ He had thought that Sunday night, and then every moment he thought on Ron Weasley since then. Why on earth did he care so much? _ Because you’d want someone to care if it was you. _ And no one else seemed to even notice Ron wasn’t okay. “It’s concerning.” He said finally, his tone soft and silky like his father’s when deep in contemplation. 

“I would understand their disbelief if he had returned missing a body part, but this is just ridiculous.”

Blaise’s amusement had Harry looking away from Gryffindor and to the tables full of students who were still staring and murmuring about the recently returned boy and felt his face twist in irritation. Apparently most everyone had yet to adjust to the idea that the boy had returned and were unabashedly watching Ronald Weasley, some gormlessly allowing food to drip off of forks while others pointing and whispering. He supposed that made sense, Ron had been gone for nearly a fortnight due to his injury, and curiosity as to how he had survived and what had exactly happened was natural as Papa said, but everyone was being awful. 

Even if Ron had been the one to eventually let it slip that Harry was a Potter, he didn’t think the other boy quite deserved _ this _. He had hated everyone’s stares when they had discovered his heritage, and no matter his feelings about Ron, he wouldn’t wish heinously unbroken attention like that on anyone. It was no wonder Ron was more withdrawn, what with everyone’s stares at him. 

Of course, what they had discovered on the third floor...on what was actually _ living there _…

Harry still didn’t have too much of an appetite, either. He needed to tell the other three already about what they had seen, but he hadn’t been sure about how they would respond to Harry’s worry about someone none of them truly liked. He needn't have worried, he supposed, but at least he now knew that they were also concerned about Ron and he could explain what they had done and where they had gone with minimal interruption.

He hoped.

“I don’t think he was ready to come back.” He mused quietly, grimacing as Ron merely picked apart the tart until it was a smattering mess on his plate. He hadn’t even licked the fork, Harry mused, and his worry only grew.

Pansy nodded sagely in agreement. “He seems really lost.” If Pansy was noticing something, maybe Harry wasn’t going crazy. Maybe it was time for them to do something about Ron. 

All four of them grimaced when just at that moment, Ron leaned slightly into Neville to get away from an excitedly yelling Seamus, eyes full of anxiety and even across the room Harry could see him trembling. He felt another stab of pity for the other boy.

“They are absolute animals,” Pansy muttered before returning to her dinner, Draco sneering in the direction of the Gryffindor table and doing likewise.

Blaise, Harry noticed, was thoughtfully eyeing the returned Gryffindor with an unblinking gaze. After a bit, he quirked a quick grin at Harry before he, too, started eating once more. 

A plan started forming in Harry’s mind. He was certain his Slytherin friends would have insights he and Neville were missing. They just had to wait until they were alone before they delved into what he had to tell them, and he knew of the perfect place to do so.

~~*~*~~

Secret Rock by the Lake

~~*~*~~

The four friends clambered up onto the giant flat rock that rested on the other side of the lake and settled in a circle, their knees all touching. Pansy quietly created a little light creating blue flame she then placed on a stone in the center of their little circle before clapping gleefully. “Okay Harry, spill.” It was after sunset, so the light created was soft and mimicked the low light of the evening, giving them just enough light to see each other. He figured they had about four hours until curfew. _ Plenty of time. _

He shook his head. “Hang on, I want to make sure we’re alone.” He scanned the area around them nervously, hoping beyond all hope someone like a professor hadn’t followed them out here. He did not want to receive detention for something he had already done and gotten away with.

Unsurprisingly, Draco’s eyes lit up. He was, after all, utterly obsessed with spells to the point of trying to create them. Harry tore his memory away from the day Draco caught the shrieking shack on fire and tried to focus on his friends instead. “I know the perfect spell. I learned it when Uncle Sev took us to the Dragon Sanctuary for your birthday. They use it to ensure no poachers are inside the zone when they set protective barriers.” He sat absently waved his wand in a swirling pattern, his face screwing up as he seemed to be racking his brain for the proper wand motion. Once certain of the pattern, he snapped his fingers and pointed his wand. “Homenum revelio.” 

Harry gasped when his body lit up like their tree at Yule, Blaise and Pansy glowing similarly. He heard Draco muttering something about how he knew he could do the spell as he looked around the murky dark forest and faded pebble beach around them, and across the dark lake to ensure there were no other glows around.

Satisfied, he took some time to find his wording. _ Shock or matter-of-fact...hmm. _ “There’s a three-headed dog in the forbidden third-floor corridor.” He’s a sucker for shocking people.

Three gaping mouths faced him, the only movement was hair blowing in the light breeze. “How do you know?” Blaise’s dark face was paler than usual, and that alone told Harry just how worried he was that Harry had this information on hand. “Please tell me you weren’t being a Gryffindor and purposely mucking about on the third floor?”

Harry rolled his eyes at the ridiculous accusation and then paused. He supposed he _ was _ the one who had taken the small group to the third floor, so the accusation was well-founded for once. “We were having a small party in the dorms welcoming Ron back.” He thought back to the look on Ron’s face as he huddled on his bed away from the other two rambunctious boys in their dorm and hunched his shoulders a bit. “Ron was terrified when Seamus decided to swing from our bed hangings so we left.” 

“And Thomas did nothing?” Pansy snorted, just as Draco asked _ “and how does this get to a Cerberus?” _ and he shook his head no. The three others with him also rolled their eyes. 

“Seriously?” Draco demanded as he leaned back on his hands and shaking his head. Harry hated how the slicked-back hair refused to budge even a tiny bit, wishing he was brave enough to push Draco into the lake and hope it was enough to bring his hair back to normal. “No wonder he looks terrified all the time if half of his roommates are going to be animalistic imbeciles.”

“So we left…!” Harry said loudly to draw attention back to his storytelling, and once they were looking at him again, he dove back into his tale. “I showed Ron the map.” He was again interrupted by his friends’ protestations and Harry shook his head again. “I had to. He refused to leave the common room until I showed him how I could keep us from being caught.”

“Why did you have to leave in the first place?” Draco asked incredulously, and Harry supposed it was a fair question. It wasn’t like Harry to break rules such as curfew.

“I thought that showing him the third floor and telling him how I woke up there Samhain in the dark would cheer him up.” Harry scowled at his knees, drawn up to his chest now with his arms wrapped securely around them, steadily ignoring Draco's hissed _ Hufflepuff _. “We were going to just look down the hallway, but then the staircase moved and trapped us there so we had to walk the long way around.” 

That had his three friends humming in understanding. The stairs were notorious for moving at just the moment you didn’t want and stranding you somewhere you didn’t wish to be, especially after curfew. It was a way to help manage students Harry knew, but the knowledge didn't halt his annoyance at being forced to traverse the third floor to the other staircase. 

“So how’d you see the Cerberus?” Pansy asked breathlessly, holding onto Harry’s every word with almost an enchanted-like attention. 

“We saw Argus on the map,” Harry answered simply as if it explained everything, but three blank looks returned to him. “Mr. Filch the school caretaker?” He expanded and they all sighed at him. “Well he likes me, so we would have been fine, but Ron panicked and ran straight into the room with the dog.” Not that Neville had been any calmer. He had dashed after Ron, leaving Harry with the map walking after them.

“Wait.” Blaise held up a hand and gave Harry an incredulous look of disbelief. “You mean the door housing a dangerous creature in a school was _ unlocked _ for anyone to venture in?”

Harry shrugged. He had wondered the same thing that night, and every moment the adventure crossed his mind. “I mean, yes? I suppose Ron’s panic could have caused his magic to unlock the door in response as accidental magic.” Especially if Neville was also panicking. But he somehow doubted it, not if the professor’s suspicions about the Headmaster were any indication. “I don’t think any animal of Hagrid’s would be _ truly _ dangerous, though.” Or maybe it would be. There _ was _ a troll at the school. He wouldn’t put it past the grounds and key keeper of Hogwarts to somehow procure a troll for the forest. 

“How do you know it was Hagrid's?” Blaise asked, a thin black eyebrow raised and his mouth twisted in a little disbelieving frown as if he couldn’t believe Harry was accusing a staff member of possessing such a dangerous creature around children. 

The sardonic look Harry shot him was purely from his practice in imitating his father in the mirror. “It’s a three-headed dog. Who else would own it?” Then his face relaxed as he remembered that Blaise hadn’t had the same upbringing around the two magical creature obsessed staff members and he was right to be suspicious.

However, it was well known that a certain professor was equally obsessed with creatures like Hagrid. “Professor Kettleburn.” The others said in unison before they all burst into snorting giggles, Harry joining immediately. The Care of Magical Creatures professor was often needing a substitute to cover his classes as he took frequent ventures to find new and unusual creatures and none of them would put it past him _ or _ the groundskeeper to own such a creature.

With a quick _ tempus _, the time tracking charm Professor Filius had taught him to do wandlessly during his tutoring sessions, Harry grimaced. They’d been out here for nearly forty-five minutes and he’d promised Neville he’d play exploding snap with him and Ron tonight before bed, and he had two essays to write before he could. Standing quickly, he dusted off his robes of any dirt or leaves. “We should go back in before someone looks for us.”

The other three followed suit, and soon they were traipsing their way back along the rocky shore of the lake towards the brightly lit castle, standing out like a beacon against the evening sky. Draco’s voice broke the quiet air. “Why would the creature be inside though?”

“Maybe it’s part of the trap?” Pansy ventured almost timidly and Harry scowled at her. She wasn’t supposed to talk about it! 

That was his suspicion, too. Maybe if he asked, Papa would confirm it. Then again, Papa would probably just tell him that it was a need to know and Harry was not part of those who needed to know. "Even if it is, you three certainly aren't supposed to even know about the plan." Harry sighed and slumped his shoulders as they walked. "We need to drop it. Before we get hurt." 

True to form, all three of his friends had a protest, Draco’s the loudest. “But Harry, it's a Cerebus!”

“I know,” Harry said patiently, but he had to get it across somehow that they had to stay away because no one was supposed to find out what was on the third floor and if it got out that at least six students knew what was there, he’s certain detention would be the least of their problems. “But the only reason I know about is…”

“Ron.” Pansy and Blaise said in unison, and the quartet sighed. “He’s so different,” Pansy complained. “I don’t know if I would break rules for him, but I can see why _ you _ would, Harry.”

“Thanks, Pans.” Harry’s reply was drier than the Sahara. When she and the other two burst into nearly hysterical laughter, Harry had to fight to keep a grin off his face. _ I love my friends. _Even though they had really no reason to help or even care about Ron, and frankly neither should he, they were still willing to help him by at least keeping his secrets for him, and that alone was worth the world to him.

~~*~*~~

14 November 1991

Thursday

Remus Lupin’s Office

~~*~*~~

Severus Snape POV

“Please tell me you’re not serious?” The surprise and horror the werewolf spoke in was far from unexpected, the bushy monstrosity on his upper lip unable to hide just how ashy he had become at Severus’ update on the Granger child, having opened the early morning conversation with the direst of news first.

Severus nodded, slow and firm and determined not to show just how worn out he was feeling. He was already exhausted and it was barely 7 in the morning. “I would not joke about something as serious as a potential obscurial.” 

He had been awoken by Poppy much earlier that morning with a request he accompanied her to St. Mungos in a discussion with head Healer Mongomery Manns in regards to Hermione Granger. As a potion master, he was the best candidate to be her witness for Hogwarts, as though Horace was talented with potions, he was not a master of the craft. There, the pair were given the next update on the young girl’s condition: she was ready to return to school, however he was concerned with how long it had taken for her magical core to recover. He had asked Severus more questions about what he had seen, that greyish mist receding into her chest, but Severus had nothing new to add. 

The healer then shared his concerns about the potential that the mist had been an obscurial in some form, but that until the mist showed itself again, the likelihood of discovering the true identity of the mist was slim. After a bit more back and forth, Healer Manns had finally dismissed them telling the pair that she would be ready for release at 4 that evening.

Upon his return to Hogwarts, he had gone immediately to his friend’s office knowing between Minerva and Remus, the wolf was a more comforting presence than the blunt and brisque Scottish woman. Not to mention Remus _ was _ his best friend after Narcissa and Lucius _ and _ would at least be alert unlike Minerva who rarely showed before the end of the staff hours for breakfast. “There is evidence enough for Child Wizarding Services to launch an investigation into her home life.”

His words were met with silence, then… “That poor child.” Remus’ following query was quiet and morose, thoughtful and mournful at the same time. “What exactly did you see? The day of the troll, that is.”

It was a valid question as he had not shared with anyone save Poppy and Healer Manns what he and Minerva had seen. The troll had been killed, yes, but not by him or Minerva. It had been clear to him that the child’s magic had defended her in some way. “I presume that after being hit, her magic created something that I can only describe as a mist that flared to defend her, however, I entered the bathroom in time to see the mist nearly completely receded. Because of this, the healer is not certain if it were the creature mist of an obscurial or some sort of accidental defensive magic.”

“That...that is alarming.” Remus sat back in his seat with wide eyes. “Have they not taken her memories of the incident?”

“They have, but there is no conclusive proof that the mist was an obscurial. The overseeing healer admitted to seeing the phenomenon before in children who had strong propensities to casting defense charms and spells.” He scowled darkly, his arms coming up to fold across his chest as if attempting to protect his heart from what he was about to say. “But seeing as the child has yet to request for either parent, the option of it being merely the latter is slim.”

Remus’ eyes only grow wider, horror-struck and ill. “So if her parents _ are _ found to be abusive? Who will take her in? Does she have any other family?” Remus whispered, the silent question clear: _ any that won’t make her revile her magic more than she already does? _

He shook his head in the negative. “None that can be found. Both parents are single children and neither have parents who are still living. As such, I believe that is a decision still up in the air until she awakens. She will remain a ward of Hogwarts until such a decision is made, and so Minerva with her Head of House role has taken over as her advocate until either her parents are found innocent and she is returned, or they are indeed guilty and are sent to Azkaban.” There was a special floor with no dementors designated specifically for muggles who knowingly performed crimes against wizards, and for those who had no connection or knowledge of wizards found themselves in muggle prison.

The room fell into silence, both men thinking on the fate of the young twelve-year-old returning today from St. Mungos. Remus broke the silence after taking a few long, measured breaths. “At least she is well enough to return sometime this afternoon. I will admit I was surprised to see Ron Weasley return as soon as he did.”

Severus had not approved of the boy returning that soon either, but it was either then or never. “Yes, though it was only after much discussion between the other heads of houses, myself, and both Molly and Arthur where it was decided it would be best to at least allow him to finish the year. Though Molly emphasized that if a hint of danger that could harm her children ever reached her ears again, she would remove them immediately.”

“Arthur would not allow that to happen, would he?” Remus asked incredulously.

Severus let out a snort. “Hrmph. He was almost as hard to convince as his wife, and he is generally more level headed. But he has just as grave concerns about Albus as all of us do, and his child was injured barely three months into the year, so I do not begrudge him his concerns.”

“Hm. Especially as you have near the same ones when it comes to Harry,” Remus remarked almost teasingly. He then veered off onto a tangent. “Speaking of the attack, have you any idea as to how the troll came to be here in Scotland?”

As the muggle studies professor, certainly, the man shouldn't be expected to know much about trolls. But, then again, it would hardly be uncommon knowledge for anyone who had opened a book on magical creatures before, and besides. This was Remus, the man who could probably write an entire series on magical creatures of various intellects. He arched a brow at his wolf friend, curious why he was posing the question. “Do_ you _ know how the troll came to be here?”

The tiny smirk Remus wore grew wide. “What makes you think I have any clue?” And that there were the two clues he needed to tell him what he wanted to know: he had a secret and was going to tease Severus with it.

“Why _ are _ we friends again?” He muttered under his breath, shooting a very dark withering scowl at the monster snickering in the chair behind his desk. “Please, Wolf, you could teach the class without textbooks with the encyclopedia of knowledge you have stored in your mind.” Perhaps flattery will get him his information sooner.

“I’m flattered you think so, Severus, but I am content as the Muggle Studies professor.” Apparently it would not, not that he should have expected any different. He tended to forget these days that Remus had once been one of the Marauders, intent on making everyone jumpy and their lives miserable.

_ “Remus.” _ Exasperation at the roundabout conversation colored his tone and brought Remus to laughter.

“As a matter of fact, I do know how it came to be here. Quirinus brought it as his part of the defense maze.”

He rolled his eyes to cover his disgust at his own shock. Of course, it was Quirinus. “You mean the one protecting-” 

“The very one.” Remus calmly sipped at his tea and eyed Severus over his teacup.

He wasn’t sure who decided to allow Quirinus the position when his travels had clearly addled his mind. “He does know we aren’t actually trying to _ kill _ the headmaster, just incapacitate him to allow the Aurors to do their jobs?”

“You know? I’m not sure he cares. He’s too excited about the prospect of aiding us in our endeavors.”

“Indeed. He _ would _ leave Hogwarts a shy and timid Ravenclaw, and return confident and reckless Gryffindor. You did leave out key and crucial bits of information that only the heads of houses are aware of I assume?” Not even Remus was supposed to technically be allowed privy to their plans, but as one of Harry’s godfathers and his uncle in all but blood he had had more of a claim than any of the professors and of course no one was going to argue against Severus.

The look Remus shot him was full of amusement and that he thought Severus was being an idiot. “Of course. At any rate, I’m certain Albus, even if senile or insane, could quite handle a troll. It would merely maim him as it did the children.”

“You can be removed from my confidence if you continue to make light of this, wolf.” But he knew Remus took the entire matter as gravely as Severus, and so wasn’t too serious about his threat. “Somehow, I am more concerned about students such as Draco Malfoy deciding the third floor is too tempting to _ not _ explore at some point. I am honestly surprised I haven’t caught him there yet.”

“Give it until after Yule,” Remus suggested dryly. “He’s still too enamored with being at Hogwarts finally to cause too much mischief. I would worry more about the Weasley Twins deciding the third floor is the perfect place to set up their experimenting, just as soon as they recover from the shock of their brother's injury.” It seemed neither of them were under any illusion that the accident would temper the Twin’s ‘creativity’. If Ginervra’s near-death at such a young age and the subsequent warning from the healers at the time hadn’t done so, it wasn’t hard to imagine that their youngest brother’s mishap would do affect them any differently.

“Perish the thought.” Severus snorted but mentally made a note to speak with Minerva about them as soon as possible. The pair had once again been seen by some fifth years coming out of the forbidden forest just as they had near the beginning of the year and had been put into detention for the next month because of it. He would not put it past them to find a new place for their mischief planning. They were far too crafty for their own health and safety, not to mention the sanity of those put in charge of maintaining that health and safety.

And besides, it wouldn’t do to have Percy Weasley withdrawn from the school. Not with his son needing as much protection from his friends and prefects as possible, and Percy fulfilled both roles perfectly first as one of his son's many friends, and second as one of Gryffindor’s prefects.

A knock at the office door has both men jumping. “Come in!” Remus called and the door opened to reveal Argus Filch and a sleepy Harry Snape at his side.

His heart jumped. Usually, his son was at breakfast before and dressed neatly in his robes, not still wearing his pajamas and slippers and looking as disheveled as James Potter on a bad hair day. “Good morning, Harry.” Severus had to fight to keep his voice calm and level. “Is something the matter?”

Argus replied before his son could. “I found him curled up asleep on the balcony of the third floor.” He said gruffly, eyeing the boy suspiciously. “Not inside, mind, just outside like before.”

Sleepwalking again? Or true mischief? “Thank you for bringing him to me.”

The old caretaker nodded and gave Harry a pat on the head when the boy hugged him and softly thanked him softly for bringing him to his papa’s office. 

“Harry?” Severus asked softly the moment the door closed after Argus left and silently rejoiced when the name had the boy looking up at his father. “Were you aware you ventured there again?”

Wild shoulder-length black hair flung wildly around his head as Harry shook his head no. “I’ve been going to bed so late, because of our end of term exams coming up.” He’d be proud of Harry for studying a month in advance were he not so concerned about the emerging pattern of sleepwalking to dangerous locations.

Specifically the third floor.

“You need to sleep, son.” Severus chided gently, pulling the boy into his arms and holding him close. “Your first and second-year exams aren’t terribly taxing, and it is intentional as your magic is still a bit too unpredictable before you turn thirteen. It is more important you are acquiring the appropriate amount of sleep so you can retain what you are learning.” He's not prepared for the outburst that comes out of his son.

“But Draco keeps saying he’s going to beat me on our scores, and he’s going to become the favorite student of the school, and I don’t want the professors to start thinking I’m stupid because I’m not doing as well as I could!”

Severus blinked. That wasn’t at all what he was expecting the boy to retort with. “Harry, none of the professors will think you’ve suddenly become a dunce simply because Draco does better than you on a test.” Harry remained unconvinced if the stubborn set to his lip gave any indication. “What is this really about?”

Harry’s face fell, which told Severus he was on the right track. “I...I’m still getting headaches all the time and…” Here his voice dropped so Severus had to strain to hear his son. “I’m afraid.”

So was he. His son wasn’t one to sleepwalk as a child, and he couldn’t understand why the boy had started doing so now that he was in school. “About what, Harry?” 

“Why am I getting headaches again? And why am I sleepwalking now when I never have before?” He shouldn't be so surprised that Harry’s worries matched his own. 

“It’s something we are going to have to figure out, son.” Standing, he ushered his son towards the door, intent on taking him to Poppy right now.

“We aren’t going to the hospital wing, are we?” Harry scowled as he spat out the word hospital, and Severus shared a grin with Remus. He knew how much his son hated Poppy’s stern ministrations and strict rules but he also knew he was out of his depth right now and needed professional opinions.

“We are.” He said and held up a hand when Harry went to protest. “I will excuse you from any classes needed today. Minerva tells me you’re still having headaches,” here Harry flushes at his annoyed tone at being kept in the dark about the problems Harry had been having, “and this is the second time you’ve been caught sleepwalking, and I would feel more comfortable knowing if the two are connected or not, and what we can do about it.”

His hand firmly in the middle of Harry’s back propelled him to the door, and thankfully Harry moved without resistance, though the scowl on his face never faded. He knew avoiding the hospital wing was the primary reason for Harry’s not telling him about the headaches, but now that he knew about it, he wasn’t going to sit idly by and allow his son to suffer.

And maybe Poppy would give him a migraine potion before he left to teach today, as a precaution. With how his morning had started, he wouldn’t be surprised if he developed one himself by noon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are vague mentions of neglect and abuse in regards to a first-year.


	9. Chapter 8: Curiouser and Curiouser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait again, I rewrote this what felt like a billion times and I’m still not fully satisfied it’s all necessary stuff, but whatever. I’m done messing with it. Thank you for your patience and comments and reviews and everything! <3 
> 
> Check out the end of chapter eleven of A Childhood Well Spent if you want to see a photo I found that comes the closest to what I see in my head when I wrote chapter 2’s description, which at the time had mostly been me just imagining where I’d most like to live if I had a choice combined with the Island’s geography.
> 
> Please see the end for any warnings. Today, it also includes an explanation as to why I put them down there instead of up here.

~~*~*~~

17 November 1991

Sunday

Empty Classroom

~~*~*~~

“What do you  _ mean _ you went to see the cerberus for yourself?!”

Both Pansy and Harry shriek in unison while Blaise instantly hid his face behind his book, though Harry could still see the guilty look on his face. 

The little quartet was in the unused classroom the group of friends had claimed for their study group so they were at no risk of being booted from the room. They used the forgotten classroom whenever the library wasn’t a necessity for homework so they could talk and discuss the things they were learning without risking being banned for an entire term from the library by the very strict Madam Pince, who took great pleasure in doing so. 

Today, they were working early enough that the library wasn’t even open for students yet so they could finish the last of their weekend homework. They were all eager to make it outside to destroy the new, fresh snowfall with fun and laughter, and based on the brief discussion at breakfast, they each only had one assignment left to complete. And so, they had agreed to eat breakfast as soon as it popped on the tables, and then work as quickly as they could to get outside.

However, Draco’s announcement he had detention with Professor Flitwick starting at ten and couldn’t join them had halted the discussion of snowball wars and charms practice using snow and turned their attention to just  _ why _ he couldn’t play.

The target of their combined wrath seemed to be completely unphased by their combined anger. “Well, vicious magical creatures always sound interesting, and I didn’t think it fair you got to see it and I didn’t.” He retorted in his ‘Malfoy’ voice, the haughty one he used whenever attempting to flaunt his name or wealth, or when he was extremely jealous. “And I never got to see it, anyway. They set alarms so I was caught as soon as I stepped onto the landing and now I have detention for two weeks.” The pout was the deepest Harry had seen, but he didn’t really care too much because his anger was overriding his amusement in his friend’s antics.

Wonderful. It hadn’t even been a week since Harry had said something to his friends and Draco had already tried to get himself killed because of it.

“Are you bloody mad?” He hissed, his hands clenching on top of the table, inadvertently ripping his half-written essay with his fingers. “You could have gotten killed! Why didn’t you ask one of us to go with you?” Suddenly, Papa’s fury whenever Harry’d done something stupid made sense. It was horrifying to feel so afraid for something someone you cared about did.

“I did.” Draco said primly before shooting Blaise a dirty look. “He said no, that he’d rather sleep then be slobbered on by a giant dog.”

“You woke me up, you arse.” Blaise tried to defend himself but quailed under both Pansy and Harry’s glares. “I’m sorry, okay! I told him not to go, but he woke me up and I was too tired and I fell back asleep before checking that he listened.”

“Are you serious?” Harry didn’t care too much about that. He cared more that Blaise didn’t try more to keep the other boy from even going in the first place. “It’s  _ Draco _ , Blaise. Of course, he wasn’t going to listen.” He didn’t move his angry gaze from his best friend’s face, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Why didn’t you ask  _ me _ to go with you?” And then gestured towards Pansy when she smacked his arm. “And for merlin’s sake, she lives in the same House as you! Why not ask her?”

Draco lifted his eyes enough to shoot a glare at Pansy before turning away with an upturned nose. “She has no subtlety. We would’ve been given away before we made it to the main floor.” 

Three eyes blink incredulously at the blond. “Are..are you serious?” Pansy spluttered, her hands fisting on top of the table like she was trying to restrain herself from reaching across and strangling Draco. “Are you really saying that  _ you _ of all people are more subtle than I am? You are the  _ least  _ subtle person I know!”

“Shut up, Parkinson.” Draco sneered before glaring again, this time at Harry. “And I didn’t ask you because you’ve become no fun since we got here! I thought we were going to be rebellious troublemakers once we reached Hogwarts and instead we’re always studying! We’ve just started the year, Harry.”

He felt a twist of guilt at that. Draco wasn’t wrong, they  _ had  _ planned to be troublemakers, but that was before their sorting and he felt more determined to show everyone the hat was wrong about his placement. He’d rather be cunning and smart than brash and always in trouble anyway. “What’s wrong with wanting to be on top of my classes? I have to have top OWLs for a Potions Apprenticeship, and I really want that someday. I thought you wanted to be a spell inventor. You need really high OWLs for that, too!” 

“As if this is about studying, Harry!” Draco shouted angrily and kicked at the table leg viciously. “It’s about you breaking your promise!”

Harry stood swiftly, knocking parchment from the table from the air displacement as he did so. “That was all planned before I became a Gryffindor!” He shouted, feeling his face flush in his anger. “I’m not going to act like that now! I thought you understood that!” 

He refused to prove that senile hat correct, that he belonged in the impulsive House of the Lion, and he was going to begin his rebellion with making top grade of his year, something most year went to either one of the Ravenclaws or the Slytherins. Not this year, though. Harry was determined to be the top. 

When Draco spoke again, it was with a viciousness usually reserved for those he didn’t like. “Well it fits then, because you’re a no fun, goody-two-shoes kissass who belongs there!”

Harry  _ had _ thought he had a rein on his accidental magic. Either that, or the boils that sprung up on Draco’s nose were done wandlessly. “You are a great big bloody selfish prat. If I would break the rules to cheer up the likes of Ron Weasley, I’d certainly for you.” 

Draco had no response save to scream and feel at his nose to see just how many, and how large, Harry had accidentally managed to make the bulbous, puss-filled bubbles. 

He barely took the time to shove everything in his bag, not bothering to organize anything. He’d do that once back in the dorms. “I’m going to go study with Neville. Since apparently I don’t belong here.”

“Harry…” Pansy said in the longsuffering tone she always had when it came to matters of all things Draco Malfoy, Drama Queen TM, but Harry just shook his head. He’d had enough already today, and it was barely ten minutes after breakfast.

“When Draco’s done calling me names, I’ll come back.” He was too tired, too stressed, too  _ everything _ to deal with Draco’s dramatics today, and all the name calling and teasing were starting to wear on him. He could only take so much.

And without another word, he slipped out the room despite Pansy and Blaise calling after him. Did he feel guilty about leaving Draco to sort himself out? Maybe a little, but he was also more than done with being talked to like Draco was doing. Harry was sick and tired of it, frankly, and if Draco didn’t want to cease, then he would choose to put himself elsewhere.

Even if it meant avoiding the Slytherin table.

~~*~*~~

20 November 1991

Wednesday

Herbology Classroom

~~*~*~~

It had taken Draco an agonizing three days to come up and apologize to Harry, who hadn’t been allowed to avoid the Slytherins like he’d initially wished. In a show of solidarity, Blaise and Pansy had taken to ignoring the blond as well and so had resolutely joined him and Neville at the Gryffindor table. By now, the rest of Gryffindor was used to seeing two of their first years joined at the hip with three Slytherin firsties, and so as a general rule left them well enough alone. Pansy had nearly started something that morning with one of the Gryffindor second year girls, but a sharp elbow from Blaise had her closing her mouth and settling for a glare and then ignoring her.

Harry was surprised it had taken so long when the three people Draco liked the most were ignoring him, but he was nothing if not stubborn, so maybe Harry shouldn't be so surprised. Draco had met with them in the front entryway after breakfast and blurted out the most long-winded speech to date that effectively stated that Harry was right and he was wrong and he was sorry.

The apology had been so sincere, and Harry could see the agony in his best friend’s face when he gave the apology that he had immediately forgiven him without another thought. He  _ had _ smacked Draco upside the head when he reminded the blond about his map of the school his da and friends made, but had allowed the other boy to walk next to him on their way to classes.

Now, it was Herbology with Ravenclaw, and Harry was staring at his writhing, wiggling plant with curiosity. It wasn’t a plant they had in their garden at home, which meant it was either useless in potions, completely indelible, or too dangerous to have at the cottage. Each quartet of students had a pot at their table, and they had been given grave instructions to not touch, but only to document what they saw. He’d already finished his sketch of the plant, and as he was waiting for the lecture to begin, he had no other information written.

Finally, the last of the quill scratching faded and once the greenhouse was quiet, the professor spoke from her desk near the door. “Who can tell me what you see today?” She asked cheerfully, beginning her weave through the planter tables of students and planted pots.

Professor Sprout was the roundest, friendliest professor at Hogwarts. She was perfect in her role as the head of Hufflepuff, kind and patient and always willing to aid a student no matter the house. He’d always enjoyed her lessons as a younger child, even if he found her to be a bit sunny and happy to be around all the time. He didn’t think she ever had a bad day and that was just the oddest to him. Everyone else seemed to have a bad day every now and then. 

As had become a habit since school began, Harry glanced over at Hermione to hear yet another long-winded explanation without waiting to be called on, and his eyes widened almost in shock. She wasn’t raising her hand, or waving it frantically, or jumping around in her seat eager to share her knowledge. No, she was merely watching the professor intently, her gaze never flicking to the other students around.

_ What? _ Every single class period, every single time a professor asked a question, Hermione was there with a raised hand or a blurted answer. She had never once held her tongue or kept her seat despite knowing an answer. And she knew it. When he scanned her body language for any clues, he could see the answer in the straining of her white-knuckled grasp of fingers folded in her lap.

After a couple of heartbeats, when no one seemed to want to volunteer an answer, Harry felt an arm raise hesitatingly beside him. From his left, Neville was quivering but held his hand firm.

The bubbly professor smiled at him. “Go ahead, Mr. Longbottom.” Professor Sprout encouraged with a bright smile.

As Neville answered, Harry kept an eye on Hermione to see how she would take someone else giving an answer in class. Her face was curiously blank, though he could see a flash of something uncomfortable in her eyes when Professor Sprout called on Neville. 

His voice was soft but confident in the answer. “It’s called Devil’s Snare.”

Harry allowed his attention to return to the plant at his table, his brow furrowing he pondered the differences between the wiggling mess of vines that resembled a hissing mass of runespore and the devil’s snare he had in his garden at home. The kind he knew of was harmless, useful even in potions and on its own. Papa even called it a weed, at times, but he’d never known it to grow vines and become alive and be dangerous.

“Very good, Mr. Longbottom!” Came the chipper response from the professor. She looked around the classroom, smiling at all the confused expressions around her. It seemed he wasn’t alone in his lack of knowledge of the plant. “This is the magical variety, far more rare than the one that grows commonly even in muggle gardens. Can anyone give a guess as to what makes the magical snare dangerous compared to the non-magical variety?”

Harry raised a hand automatically and frowned when she called instead on Michael Corner. “It appears to be alive.” He said in his matter-of-fact manner of speaking. “Perhaps even sentient.”

“It is, in a way. Devil’s Snare is similar to a carnivorous plant in that it senses movement of its victim and constricts much like a snake.” Her gaze sweeps the room, far more somber than she’d ever shown before. “In the old times, it was often used as a way to slow or halt the advancement of advancing armies, however once Lumos was discovered, the plant’s usefulness decreased for the ministry’s armies.”

Harry thought that was interesting, using a plant as a trap to halt advancing marauders. However, his brow folded as he thought and then raised his hand again to ask his question. “Wouldn’t the trap also be useless once the sun rose?” He said when she called on him. “If it responded to a Lumos, surely the sun would be worse?”

“Indeed.” She smiled at him. “It was primarily used to find any who would attempt to use the black of night as stealth.”

“But, Ma’am, wouldn’t it just constrict you more were it blinded? If it acted like a snake?”

She beamed at him further. “I would like you to make that the topic of your essay, Mr. Snape, if you wouldn’t mind!” Professor Sprout then turned to address the class as a whole. “I would like each of you to posit a question to your parchment and to use the rest of the class period and the week to find the answer. You may use textbooks from any year, provided the student who owns the book has allowed you to use it, you may also talk to any one of the seventh years and interview them, or another professor other than Professor Snape or myself.” She hustled off towards the opposite side of the room when a group of students all raised their hand.

Harry grinned at the mention of his father. Using Papa as a source would definitely be cheating. He nudges Neville with a gentle elbow. “Want to partner up?” He asked, and Neville smirked at him.

“I’m not a seventh-year resource.” He quipped, and Harry smacked him with the feather of his quill as he giggled maniacally and tried to dodge it. 

“No, but we partner up in all our classes.” Harry grinned at his friend. “Besides, what other class can I just pick your brain instead of using the textbook to write my essay?”

Neville gave him an unamused look before thrusting a parchment at Harry. “More writing, less talking.”

“Yessir!” Harry gave a salute before settling down to sketch out the wiggling plant at the top of the parchment.

~~*~*~~

6 December 1991

Friday

Lunch in the Great Hall

~~*~*~~

The days grew steadily colder as their schedules became busier. Between his friendships, classes, sleepwalking, headaches, and the worries about the headmaster, Harry felt his biggest current struggle were his classes. Some days felt fine, but most days his magic felt like he had to wrangle it into place just so he could harness enough to pass his in-class demonstrations. Though, today for charms, he’d been unable to even lift the brick Professor Flitwick had for them today for their final lessons before exam prep when the day before he had managed to even turn it midair.

He was thankful it was lunchtime. All the studying and stressing about essays and exams were extremely draining on his energy. Today, he and Neville were sitting at the Slytherin table for lunch and for dinner the three Slytherins would sit at the Gryffindor table with them. He nearly skipped into the Great Hall and made his immediate way to where he saw Blaise, Draco, and Pansy already sitting and chatting animatedly.

"Just Dominique," Blaise replied when Harry asked about the letter he had seen his friend frowning over during breakfast while Neville loaded his plate with potatoes. "He says he can't believe I still think Hogwarts is better than Beauxbaton."

Harry couldn’t understand what Dominique liked so much about Beauxbaton, even after a couple of years of the other boy declaring his love at every opportunity. It was just a school. He didn’t have nearly the same love for Hogwarts that Dom had for France, that was for sure. 

“At least their headmaster is sane.” Pansy retorted, and the other three gave various degrees of snorts in amusement. Harry picked through the offerings for lunch and managed to put together a relatively healthy meal of a limp looking salad and the roasted potatoes. He missed his home garden with a sudden ferocity that surprised him. He hadn’t felt this homesick since the first week of school.

He missed his garden, he missed their secret glen, he missed his room and their beach. He missed visiting the goat farm and the small playground in the muggle village close by. As much as he loved inland Scotland for it’s beautiful forests and lush hills, his heart longed for his home on the island with a ferocity that nearly overwhelmed him.

_ I’m going home soon enough. _ With an internal scowl, he shoved the feeling as deep down as he could and returned to the conversation at hand in time to hear the last snippet of whatever it was Neville was sharing. “I just can’t seem to make my wand do what I want.”

He perked up. It sounded like Neville was having the exact same problems Harry was having. Pansy, Draco, and Blaise were all frowning deeply at Neville who was slowly turning red from the scrutiny. “May we see it?” Pansy finally asked politely, and after a moment of hesitation, the round pudgy Gryffindor slowly slid his wand out of his pocket and set it on the table. 

The wand looked battle-worn and used, indicating it was an inherited wand. The four onlookers gasped, both in amazement at the beautiful wand and the fact that the Longbottom heir had such an inherited wand. It wasn’t much of a wonder now why Neville was struggling, he must be using an incompatible wand. 

Harry was the first to speak. “Whose…”

He doesn’t finish his question. “My dad’s.” Neville replied quietly. He smiled at them with a sad half-turn of his mouth but didn’t elaborate.

Harry chewed a dry yet starchy bite of potato and grimaced at the sandy texture in his mouth. He wanted roasted potatoes, not whatever this slop was passing as. A swig of pumpkin juice was required before he could ask, “why your da’s wand? Was it compatible with your magic?” He knew Draco, along with his custom wand, was using his grandfather’s wand as a backup because of how closely it resonated with his own magic. Perhaps Neville’s was the same. Perhaps he was wrong about his gut feeling.

The other boy shrank down even further and Harry only grew angrier at Neville’s next words. “I’m Frank Longbottom’s only son and I have a duty to carry on his name.”

It was obvious he was only quoting words he had heard many times before, probably from either his Gran or his Uncle - or even both. Harry just had to speak up. He had toyed with the idea of using either his mum or da’s wands, but it hadn’t been able to happen. “My magic isn’t compatible with my father’s wand. My mother’s works for an emergency, but I wouldn’t use it unless both of my current wands were lost. Blood isn’t a guarantee for magics to match. Why not get your own wand and use your da’s as backup?” Sure he had used his mum’s wand while growing, but he hadn’t needed a true wand and her wand merely muted his abilities rather than nullify or cause to go wild, making it the perfect wand to learn a real spell on whenever papa had allowed it.

The look on Neville’s face was sour and despondent and Harry felt suddenly helpless at the look. “Gran said no.” He responded softly. “She said if I was worthy enough to have even a speck of magic, I would use my father’s wand.” His voice dropped even lower and Harry had to strain to hear him. “Sometimes I think she wishes I had been the one, instead of them.” Before anyone could say anything, he brightened up. “But it’s fine, I’ll just work harder!”

In all their talking since becoming roommates, Harry realized belatedly, Neville had never really spoken about his parents. He had mentioned them in passing, or like now in relating a reason for something, but had never shared stories. He knew a little, that the Dark Lord had targeted them as well and they had been gravely injured, but he knew nothing else.

Were they even still alive after ten years? Were they in a coma unable to wake up? Or something even more horrible, like soulless from a dementor kiss? How could he even ask without offending or hurting the other boy?

“It’s not about how hard you work, Longbottom.” Draco said blandly, poking his fork into the overcooked noodles with a scowl. “It’s about having the correct wand for your magic. You need your own wand.” 

“Besides, mine doesn’t feel right either.” Harry pointed out, the rest of the food on his plate unappetizing enough that he couldn’t choke down another bite. “Would you say that it’s because I don’t work hard enough?”

“No!” Neville said, horrified. “I just, I’m not, I would never…” 

“You should talk to McGonagall.” Pansy interrupted. “As your head of house, she can advocate for you to get the wand you need to ensure you pass all your classes.” She then turned her gaze to Harry, eyes narrowed and sharp. “And just what do you mean by that, your wand doesn’t feel right? Didn’t you go to Madam Youngs? You shouldn’t have any issue with one of her wands.” He opened his mouth to answer yet she barreled on. “What does your gem look like? Show me your wand, Harry!” She was decidedly less polite to him then she was to Neville, Harry noticed, and he gave her his best scowl to demonstrate how displeased he was with her rudeness while also procuring his wand for inspection. 

Of course, as his best friend, she completely ignored him and snatched up the wand to examine it while he started to explain, Blaise and Draco leaned in to do the same. “It felt fine at home and even on the train at the beginning of the year. And it’s always felt more like mine than the one I got at Ollivanders.” He began with a sigh and propped his chin up on his hand and ran his fork tines through the mess left on his plate. “But I noticed the first week that in classes and such, neither wand feels quite like it wants to work for me. Everything is really difficult for me to do, and I’ve never had that problem before.”

He hadn’t. All of his tutors had commented on just how perfect his magic seemed to be, and how ready he would be for Hogwarts. But now that he was here, he was finding that not to be the case and his wand was one of the ways he knew that. It always felt like he was forcing his magic to channel through his wands instead of using them like a conduit. Papa had explained that a wand that fit your magic would feel almost effortless with time, yet Harry hadn’t felt such a thing since school began. He was only growing more frustrated with each class.  _ Maybe I need to look into my wand a bit more. _ He had fully intended on researching his wand wood and cores, but had put it off for the sake of enjoying summer and then because school took all of his time.  _ Yule break, that’s when I’ll look. _

Draco took the time to pull his own wand out to compare the gems with their house colors. “The colors are all wrong, Harry.” The blond said with deep confusion and once Harry looked to compare for himself, he immediately saw the problem. With Draco’s wand next to Harry’s the contrast was stark.

The gem on his wand was a muddied mess of a very weak and pale red mixed with a gold so pale it was barely yellow. It was especially noticeable now next to Draco’s very obvious and pronounced green and silver that ebb and swirl together in harmony.

Pansy has another point to make when she touched the two gems with her pointer fingers. “The colors are weak because they are fighting for dominance for other colors.” Harry looked at Draco’s, then his, and decided she was probably correct. Then his heart sank when she continued, “I have heard of wands she’s made who reject their owners because their core values changed.”

“You mean my magic has already changed enough for my wand to reject me?”

She sighed in a way that made Harry feel stupid. “No, it just proves what I’ve been saying all along, you should be in Ravenclaw.” She pointed quickly to a flash of what could have been a color other than red or gold, but it was gone so quickly Harry would have doubted he’d seen it at all if Pansy hadn’t pointed it out to him. “I swear that is blue right there in the red.”

“Are you sure the blue you’re seeing isn’t black? You know he’d be a Puff if he was placed right, Panse.” Draco snickered as he pulled up the very familiar tease, effectively ruining the tone as he slipped his wand back into his robes.

“He would not!” Pansy huffed indigently, visibly as irritated as Harry at Draco’s tired, dragged on joke. “He’d be a Claw, and you know it. No one else would spend that much time in the library and write essays for fun.”

“They’re not essays.” Harry made a weak protest, but found he couldn’t say much else. It was true. He liked to write down the things he learned about during his independent studies, and often time would journal in order to help understand a topic better. Granted, it read like a mishmash of notes that made sense to him but no one else, but still. He knew of no other kid his age that  _ liked _ to study like he did, but he loved learning new things - especially anything that could help him invent potions - and that usually meant independent study.

Draco let out a loud bark of laughter, thankfully drowned out by the chattering Gryffindors. “Not a chance, he’s too fluffy and nice to be anything but a Puff.”

“I’ll show you fluffy...” Harry muttered before launching a spoonful of cream meant for the scones at his best friend’s carefully slicked back blond hair. The following shriek and horrified expression was worth having the entire rest of the bowl heaved at him  _ and _ the detentions for that night they were both given as soon as Professor McGonagall made it to their spot at the table. To make matters worse, none of them would have time to shower before lessons and would have to rely on their shoddy attempts at scorgify as none of the prefects could stop laughing long enough to help.

~~*~*~~

12 December 1991

Thursday

Secluded Corner in the Library

~~*~*~~

“Harry, it’s not even breakfast time yet.” Draco yawned through his fist, his bathrobe wrapped tightly around him. He still shivered even as he huddled with Harry in the farthest back corner with a pile of books surrounding them. “It’s barely time for even adults to be awake, let alone study for exams.”

Harry doesn’t even look up from his book, Magical Midnight Mishaps. “And I already told you, this isn’t for exams. This is the fourth time this month I’ve woken up either in, near, or on the way to the forbidden third floor hallway!” The page flipped almost violently in time with his outburst and Harry's eyes scanned over the description of a woman who sleepwalked her way into various wizards’ houses and murdered the men only. She claimed to be under a strong potion, but her blood had shown no such substances upon testing and she never harmed the females in the house, so the Aurors hadn’t believed her. With a sigh, he moved on from the story.  _ Nothing to do with my sleepwalking. _ He wasn’t murdering people, just trying to go somewhere forbidden without his conscious permission. 

“So, how many times is this now?” Draco asked with a deep frown, concern wrinkling his forehead and coloring his tone. “Not this month, but in total.”

Harry didn’t have to count. The number was already firmly lodged in his mind from how often he’d rolled it around. “This morning makes number 8.” He hadn’t been telling Papa after the first couple because there wasn't anything anyone was able to do and he didn’t want Papa to have to worry about him on top of his new responsibilities as Head of House and trying to capture the headmaster in his twisted schemes.

“And you’re telling Uncle Severus, right?”

Of course Draco would dive into that topic. “No.” He said firmly.

Draco gaped at him. “But, you have to!”

Harry just arched a brow. He did not have to tell his father, even though he knew he should. But his father was so busy already, and his head of house was aware of most of his sleepwalking incidents, anyway. Besides, his curiosity was fully piqued and if he told Papa he was still sleepwalking, Papa would start giving him something or even worse, making him sleep in his quarters and he would simply die of embarrassment if that happened.

“Would you tell yours?” 

“Of course I would! Father would be furious on top of worried if I didn’t!” Draco had a point. Uncle Lucious was very much about communication and providing help. He’d rather they ask for help then be arrested or killed, he’d always told them. But Draco didn’t stop there. “I’m going to tell him, Harry.” He sounded serious, more so than he ever had before. “He already knows about your headaches, right? He needs to know you’re still sleep walking!”

Harry scowled at him and threw a wad of parchment from the desk at his head. 

“Do that, and I’ll tell him it was you who used a time-delayed ink prank on his quills and not the twins.” It was one of the very few things Draco had managed to get away with during their years terrorizing Hogwarts as pre-students and was quite proud of that fact, and Harry knew it well. It was the first year the twins had been at Hogwarts. All the markings Papa had done on the end of the year essays had vanished just as he was preparing to pass them back to the students, and the fury that had followed had become almost a legend among the students ever since.

Draco’s response was to mime zipping his lips shut and Harry grinned in victory. He wasn’t afraid of blackmail, no matter what the other three said, it just had to be under the right circumstances. But he still looked worried, and Harry let out a soft sigh in defeat. “Fine, I’ll tell him over Yule.” Maybe. 

Draco seemed to accept that, and together they stood to go shower for the day. It was barely 5:30 am by this point but they have classes and Harry especially felt a need to shower, he always did after his sleepwalking incidents.

He’d just finished putting his books away when a hiss of pain escaped him as horrible burning bloomed across his forehead, the curse scar from the Dark Lord the epicenter of the invisible inferno. Through the roar of pain in his ears, he was certain he could hear Draco saying his name and he genuinely gave an attempt to respond.

But when he opened his mouth, a high pitched keen of pain escaped instead, and Draco’s already pale face blanched further. Then his eyesight was taken over by a view that was not his own, a flash of a white horse-like coat, a scream of an animal in pain, the slippery feel of blood flowing down his throat, and he nearly retched acid and bile from his empty stomach at the coppery taste he could nearly feel in his own mouth. 

All thought of keeping his father in the dark, of holding back to keep him from being stressed out or worried, flee him at that moment. “Papa.” He whimpered, and a shaking hand fumbled for his wrist and he gripped it blindly, tightly. “Draco, I need Papa.”

~~*~*~~

Filius Flitwick's Office

~~*~*~~

“There isn’t anything unusual I can see.” 

The high voice of the smallest professor on the staff seemed far too cheerful for having just had to scan an eleven-year-old for dark magic. 

“Are you certain, Filius?” Papa sounded almost angry that there was nothing, and Harry’s feeling that it was good news dropped away quickly. “Nothing to explain the sleepwalking or the visions of unicorns being  _ murdered _ ?” The reminder of what he had seen made his stomach churn. “He is eleven, he shouldn’t be having visions like these!”   
  


“Severus, we both checked.” Professor Minnie tried to soothe his papa. “Poppy has checked. Aside from the residual tendrils that have been there since the attack as an infant, there is nothing new going on. There is nothing we can find that is causing any of this, and to access any of the books needed for any...obscure ways, we would have to find a way around the headmaster.”

Harry laughed before he could stop himself, and all three adults looked at him with various degrees of amusement. Papa had almost none, but a gleam in his eye told Harry he at least found it amusing even if he wasn’t going to smile about it. Minnie was shaking her head at him in the way that meant he had gotten to her but she wasn’t about to show it. And Professor Flitwick was full-on giggling merrily at him. “Even Harry knows how ridiculous the very idea is.”

Papa just snarled and ushered Harry out the door. Draco had been sent back to the dorms via prefect as soon as Harry had been delivered to Papa, and they had immediately come to Professor Filius’s office, his head of house not far behind them in arriving. 

The pair walked silently through the hallway on their way to the Gryffindor dorms. Papa had already helped him put the memory of the unicorn behind some occlumency walls, but as another block was already there, the new one was a bit weaker. Which meant some times, the memory would slip through and his nausea would jump.

_ Maybe it's time to remember the other memory? _ He knew it had something to do with the Dark Lord and why he went after Harry’s parents, but Papa had been quite successful in removing the majority of the knowledge from his mind. But Papa just shook his head when Harry voiced the suggestion out loud.

“Not yet, son.” He said quietly. “You need to be able to hold your own shields before I release that.”

Their footsteps echoed when Harry didn’t voice an immediate response. He didn’t really have one for that. He supposed he understood the need. If it was important enough for Papa to block it back then, it would probably be important for him to be able to keep it hidden himself. “When can I learn?” He asked instead, and Papa smiled at him.

“Thirteen.” Came the simple response. “But I can tell you that you are well on your way because you’ve learned to meditate already.” 

Harry beamed at that. “Does that mean I’ll learn it quicker than Draco?” He hoped so. He liked being better than Draco at things. 

Papa’s chuckle echoed in the hallway with their boots. “If he cannot manage to learn to meditate, perhaps. But he is almost two months older than you, so he will have a long headstart.”

Harry didn’t think Draco would be able to even stop talking long enough to meditate, but he kept that quiet. “Does nothing showing in the scan mean someone is casting an unforgivable on me?”

It’s the only explanation he can think of. 

Papa halted in his tracks and stared down at Harry with dark unblinking eyes. If Harry hadn’t grown up under that gaze he might have felt unnerved, but he just gave the same blank look back. He was serious and if Papa understood that, maybe he’d answer. 

His patience was rewarded. “We cannot rule that out.” Papa said finally. “And if that is the case, our window in who or what might be causing this narrows considerably. However…” But his voice trailed off and he didn’t pick back up the thought.

Harry glared at him. “However…?” He prompted and Papa glared back.

“However, I cannot tell you more because I need you to be as natural as possible and I cannot rely on your acting skills.”

Fair enough. Harry tended to wear his emotions on his sleeves no matter how he tried to hide them like Draco and Pansy and Blaise. Still, he scrunched his face up in irritation and huffed a sigh of impatience. If the headmaster was the cause of this, why couldn’t they find out? “Do you think it’s...well, the headmaster?”

Papa gave him a look that told him to drop it, which to Harry meant that he was on the right track, so he clamped his mouth shut and stared at his boots as they headed up the stairs towards the Gryffindor side of the castle. He really wanted his shower now. He hated how his skin felt after diagnostic scans.

“How often have you been sleepwalking, Harry?” Papa asked out of the blue.

Harry’s heart sank. “Um, well.” He floundered before flushing and looking at his boots. “Eight times in total.” He mumbled and looked up in time to see a disappointed light in Papa’s eyes.

“Harry…” 

“I know! I should have told you!” He nearly shouted, throwing his hands up in the air and stomping a little as they started walking again. With the headmaster, the sleepwalking, the visions, he knew he needed to tell Papa when things happened. “But with you being the head of Slytherin now, you’re busy and stressed and tired and with whatever you’ve been doing with Hermione -” Papa looked sad and angry at her name, and Harry frowned at him. “What, what’s wrong with her? I thought she was fine now? I mean, except for classes because she’s been silent in classes, but other than that, she’s been fine.”

To his surprise, Papa just nodded sadly. “She’s coming to terms with some very difficult notions. She needs your continued patience, Harry.”

He’s been very patient, he’d never snapped at her or told her to her face to stop talking, even if he had ungraciously thought it at times. “But what’s wrong?” He pressed before realizing something horrifying. “Do her parents hit her?!”

“No, Harry, they do not.” Papa sounded firm and serious, so Harry immediately knew that was the truth. “However, child abuse isn’t just bruises and broken bones. Neglect can be just as damaging as any other type of abuse.”

Neglect? “You mean, like, pretending she didn’t exist?” When Papa gave a curt nod, his heart twisted. “Why? Why would you pretend your child doesn’t exist?” He couldn't imagine anything worse, being put aside like no one cared about you, like it didn’t matter if you lived or died. “Is she going to be okay?” He may not like her too much, but she didn’t deserve  _ that _ .

Papa hummed. “I believe she will be, in time. First, we are trying to find her a new family.”

That can be done? Harry kenw Papa had adopted him, but that had been because his mum and dad had died and sent a letter out and Papa had gotten it out of everyone else. He didn’t realize it was possible to take a child away from unfit parents.

Maybe he wouldn't have noticed it before. He hadn’t back in October, that was for sure. But right now, the tales he remembered Neville saying back in October, the recent knowledge that his grandmother refused him his own wand, and now the new information about Hermione all combined to leave a sour taste in his mouth. Papa’s words were still echoing in Harry’s head.  _ Child abuse isn’t just bruises and broken bones  _ and he  _ can’t stop seeing it _ .

“Would throwing a child who can’t swim into water to bring out their magic be abuse? Or out a window?”

He blurted it out before he could stop himself. Papa halted again and turned to give him a hard, searching look but Harry couldn’t speak through all the sudden realizations he was having.

Neville was being abused at home. He should probably care more about the news that Hermione was being neglected at home, that her parents didn’t care about her and what she did, but she already had someone who had uncovered it and who was getting her the help she needed. 

Neville hadn’t talked to anyone else about home, except him. He’d mentioned his wand to the small group of friends, but it was fairly common for pureblooded families to pass along heirloom wands. His friends might suspect something with the refusal for a new wand as well, but without the same stories of Neville’s childhood Harry knew, they would lean more towards an insane desire to have her warhero son live on through the boy left behind rather than abuse.

Which meant, no one else knew. Which meant, for Neville to have help, for someone else to see and do for him what they’re doing for Hermione, it was up to him.

“Papa, I need to tell you something. About someone in my dorm.” He swallowed around a knot in his throat when Papa silently nodded for him to continue. It took monumental effort to speak through the tightness, to add  _ more _ onto Papa’s plate, but he just couldn’t stay silent.

Not now that he’d noticed. And they were leaving in a couple of days for the holidays, and if he stayed silent, and Neville didn’t come back…

He continued with a shaking voice. “And I don’t think he should go home for Yule. I don’t think he’s safe, I really don’t.” He gripped papa’s hands tightly in an effort to quell the tremors he suddenly couldn't stop. “I think something is going on with Neville at home.” The large hands he’s holding grip back with a ferocity that almost surprised him and it helped the last of his words burst out before the sobs could. “I think his uncle abuses him.”

Papa’s hands suddenly release his and he collapsed into his chest, strong arms pulling him in protectively, and he allows himself to weep into the dark robes. Papa knew now, it wasn’t going to be Harry’s burden to carry alone. “I will extend an invitation to our cottage for the holidays just as soon as I see you to your dorms.” 

“But what if…”

“I will word it in a way that she will be a fool to refuse the offer.” Papa’s promise was firm and immediate, and Harry knew that he would do everything in his power to ensure Neville did not go home again until he knew for certain the other boy would be safe. “I will find out for certain and the situation will be dealt with, Harry. Thank you for telling me.”

He would, Papa would, he knew it deep that Papa was a man of his word and if he said he would find out, he would do so. And with the knowledge that Neville would be safe, he could move his mind onto other things like the last day of exams and his wand and breakfast.

However, first: a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Discussion of canon Neville events with his uncle. I also updated the chapter where Harry and Neville have the discussion first to have the warnings as well. There is also a description of the unicorn attack as a vision, but it’s brief.
> 
> Explanation: I put major warnings down here to avoid any sort of spoilers for readers, and it is up to the individual reader to check the end notes when available. I personally find warnings at the beginning to be distracting and can ruin the enjoyment of a new chapter for me because published books don’t do that, it ruins the point of having twists and surprises for readers. I still try to include warnings because I think people need a chance to prepare themselves to read about things such as things like abuse or assault, or if they wish to avoid it completely, because it’s important to be able to take care of your mental health. Just remember that I’m human and can’t possibly label every single trigger out there, and if you think about it, literally anything can become a trigger for someone given they’ve had the “right” traumas for it.
> 
> If it were a shorter story, I wouldn’t put warnings in the chapters at all. If it comes to that, I will put them in the tags and leave it at that.


	10. Chapter 9: Yuletide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder, < “Parseltongue.” > Also, this is entirely much longer than I ever planned any of these chapters to be, but I could not divide it satisfactorily enough to give it two chapters instead of one.

~~*~*~~

14 December 1991

Saturday

Platform 9 3/4

~~*~*~~

“I see Mother with Estelle, all the way over there!” Draco shouted over the din of the students and families all greeting each other. The trio of boys was empty-handed, having left their trunks on the train for the Malfoy house-elf as requested by his godmother in the letter received that morning. Blaise had already been fetched by his mother and brother, and Pansy with her two siblings was disappearing in the opposite direction, having already bid their farewells until their customary Yule gathering. “Though I don’t see Father. I hope he isn’t feeling unwell.” 

Harry’s gaze followed the pointing finger to see Estelle jumping up and down, her curly dark hair bouncing like muggle slinkies. Draco grinned widely and waved at her before taking off in an undignified run. She seemed to have caught sight of them just as they had, and he could see his godmother struggling to contain the excited four-year-old. He made to take off after Draco before realizing Neville was struggling to keep up with them. 

He turned to see it was less struggling and more purposeful dragging of feet. The other boy looked terrified and like he wanted to flee back onto the train. “Come on, they don't bite.”

That didn’t help Neville’s color return, if anything he merely paled further. “I’ve never heard anything good about the Malfoys. Draco’s fine, I know him now, but his parents...I don't know, I just…”

That made sense, he supposed. He’d be apprehensive as well if he’d heard horrible stories about someone before having to meet them. “They’re great, I promise!” Harry patted the round boy’s back comfortingly. “And Auntie Cissa is looking forward to meeting you, she said so in her letter this morning!” Which Neville already knew because Harry had allowed him to read it over and over throughout the entire train ride. But he couldn't blame his friend for feeling so out of sorts. Harry would feel the same way if the roles were reversed.    
  


Thankfully, Neville nodded and started his quivering way forward, and Harry stuck with him both to make sure he didn’t bolt and to give him a chance to clear his mind. He was thankful Gemma was asleep in her terrarium and already home. Papa had flooed with her that morning to ensure she would arrive safely, admonishing that it would be the only year he would be doing so. Next year, when he was officially allowed his snake, she would be his responsibility to cart and keep safe between home and school.

Each step banished a small bit of his anxiety and stress just knowing he was on his way home, and while he loved his father with all his heart, Harry was also extremely glad that he wouldn’t be seeing him again until late tomorrow. Papa had said he needed to wrap up the first term and would work faster if Harry were not underfoot. Harry, however, knew better. Every other year he had stayed with Papa and helped with cleaning or organizing, and he knew that this year was different because of his sleepwalking and the knowledge that it had to be someone at the school causing it. Papa wanted him far away from Hogwarts, he’d heard him tell Uncle Remus that when he thought Harry wasn’t around listening.

_ And if Papa has his way, I’ll probably never go back. _ The past two days had been filled with stifling restrictions on his freedoms. While not being confined to his father’s quarters, he  _ was _ forbidden from going anywhere alone and ordered to avoid being in the hallways for any prolonged length of time. 

That last one was the most stupid, in his mind. He had to use the hallways to even leave the dorms to go-to meals, let alone classes or activities with friends. It was as if Papa wanted to imprison him without physically doing so, and if his father thought he had nothing of James Potter in him, he would prove him otherwise upon the return to school, regardless of how it might look since his placement to Gryffindor.  _ I know my da’ would not have followed either one of these restrictions. _ He only didn’t have a problem with the not being alone rule because it wasn’t as if he left the dorm without Neville these days, anyway. He’s still amazed he found a friend in the Gryffindor boy’s dorm.

But, what was the most ridiculous, the absolute most out of control way his father could have reacted, was the fact that he was always being watched now. If not by Papa, then by another professor or even the prefects! It was as if they expected him to be imperioused or something right there in the great hall as he’s eating with hundreds of other people all around him when all the evidence pointed to the contrary, that whatever it was that was happening did so when he was alone or even asleep. It was also a contributing factor to why he was willing to always be in someone’s company outside of the dorms, he didn’t want to give the person any chance to overtake him in a dark hallway.

And sure, it was a very disturbing thing he had seen in his vision, and sure, he was still haunted by flashes of the vision, and who wanted to have horrible visions? Certainly not Harry. However hard he wished otherwise, deep down, Harry felt everything was merely beginning and he’d better buck up and get used to life only growing more difficult as he aged. He’d been marked by the devil himself after all, and the devil always gathered his dues. 

Pile that on top of the stress about removing the unstable headmaster and whatever was causing his sleepwalking, well, all in all, it had been a very tiring, stifling two days. The train ride had been nearly ten hours of bliss, only interrupted by Percy and Gemma once near the beginning and again by Basil and Anise at the end to fetch their sister. Now, he was more than happy to release his thoughts of school and visions and Voldemort in favor of watching his best friend be absolutely steamrolled over by the blur that was his baby sister, their mother laughing over them. 

At his bark of laughter, the little girl changed course and Harry braced himself for the impact of a four-year-old wiggly missile of hugs and shrieks. He managed to keep his balance, even as she grabbed him around the waist and tried to bounce around him in a circle, her blue robes flouncing around her like flower petals. 

“Harry, Harry, Harry! Whose this, is he a new friend, I like new friends!” She barely took a breath before planting herself in front of Neville, who looked as wide-eyed as a baby deer in lights, and thrust her hand out. “I’m Estelle Malfoy, but you can call me Stelly! It’s nice to meet you!” She beamed and shook the still quiet boy’s hand enthusiastically before looking up at him inquisitively, hand still in hers. “My papa says that a good handshake is very important when you meet people. How was that?”

Neville’s arm started to jerk back and forth, the little girl gripping it now with both hands starting to swing her arms as she hopped from foot to foot waiting for a response. Harry hid his grin behind a hand at the sight of the terrified eleven-year-old facing down the youngest of the Malfoy’s. “I think it...It was a marvelous handshake.” Neville murmured, a small smile slowly starting to form as he spoke. Estelle had that effect on people, the ability to put them at ease with her bubbly personality and easy way of talking.

The little girl whirled around, though it was difficult when she refused to release Neville. “Mama, I did it! I was proper!” Except for actually finishing the introduction, she had made a great attempt. Especially for a four-year-old. Harry was pretty proud of her for that, at least, even if it was extremely difficult to not burst out laughing at her antics.

“I see that, love.” Auntie Cissa sounded like she, too, was swallowing back her laughter. “Would you like to introduce me to your new friend?” 

“Okay!” She started to drag Neville off, who immediately allowed it to happen because who would be able to resist the force of Estelle Malfoy? But then she halted, and with a horrified look, turned back to Harry and Neville. “I forgot! I forgot to ask his name!” She whispered and Harry leaned in to whisper back.

“Then ask him, not me.” 

She scowled at him, finally releasing Neville to put both of hers on her hips. “I was going to, Harry.” She stuck a tongue out at him and focused on Neville. “I told you my name, and now you tell me yours.”

“That’s not asking, Estelle.” Draco fumed as he finally approached them. “You ask it with your introduction. ‘Hello, my name Estelle. What might your name be?’ You don’t just demand a name.” Harry thought that was rich, Draco lecturing someone else on being proper when he struggled with it himself. 

“But that’s boring!” She cried with flailing hands. “I tell you my name, you tell me yours, and then we’re friends!”

“It’s rude!”

“It’s not!”

“It is!”

“Nu-uh!”

“My name is Neville!”

The arguing siblings halted their back and forth, Draco looking mutinous at the shouted interruption and Estelle delighted. The shy boy shrank back from the combined attention. “Sorry, I just...she’s kind of right. I could just say my name.”

And Neville was a pureblood raised with manners, which meant Draco had no real argument to shoot back like a lack of upbringing. So he settled with a glare and turning his back on them, which had the pair of boys rolling their eyes at the predictability of Draco Malfoy’s ego.

Estelle bounced back quicker than her older brother, and she reached out once again to finish dragging Neville over to the Malfoy matron. “Mama, this is my new friend Neville!”

Harry felt the always nervous boy immediately straighten up. “It’s very nice to meet you, Ma’am.” Neville was stiff both in how he spoke and in his formal bow over his arm. 

“And it is a joy to make your acquaintance, Neville.” She smiled warmly at him. “I hope you find your stay with us enjoyable.”

If anything, that only brought a green tinge to Neville’s cheeks. “Thank you for inviting me to your home, Lady Malfoy. I appreciate the honor.” 

“The honor is mine, to be sure.” She said softly, an inquisitive look growing on her face. “I am always quite delighted to meet one of my son’s friends. And as such,” here her expression grows almost stern through her warm, inviting tones never changed. “You are welcome to address me as Aunt or Auntie Cissa as all of Draco’s friends do.”

“But, oh but…”

She interrupted his stammering gently, with a soft hand on his shoulder as she continued, “but if not comfortable with that yet, Lady Malfoy will be fine. I’ve heard a great deal about you from my boys, and I know both myself and Lucius are thrilled to finally meet you. I hope you find yourself comfortable in my home.” Neville looked relieved when she released his shoulder and stepped back to tap her wand against her wrist.

When the time flashed, she frowned deeply and made an unhappy noise. “We best be off before we are late for dinner. Dobby has prepared something extra special for you boys.” Se gestured towards the brick wall that housed the apparition point sign and made a shooing motion when none of them moved. “Come along, let’s move! Lucius has a surprise to show you before we eat, he was most insistent upon it.”

~~*~*~~

Malfoy Manor

~~*~*~~

“Hello, pigeons!”

When Harry gathered his bearings from aparating, he fully expected to see the common muggle bird in the yard fleeing the energy ball of little Malfoy as Estelle wiggled her way out of her mother’s grasp to dash up the lawn. Instead, his eyes were greeted by a pair of magnificent white birds with the most fluffy, elegant plumage he’d ever seen in his life. And he wasn’t about to correct the little girl that she was very wrong on what bird they were.  _ Those are very beautiful… _

“Those are  _ peacocks _ , Estelle.” 

Trust Draco to jump in on the chance to correct his little sister, especially in  _ that _ tone. It was no wonder the siblings bickered the way they did.

“That’s what I said!” She snapped back. She wiggled out of her mother’s grasp and dashed over to the birds, who flocked around her squawking excitedly. It was readily apparent they loved her. “Pigeons, attack!” They peck at the hand not pointing to her brother, and disappointed at a lack of food, return to Lucius with his bag of feed. 

“Those are peacocks, Estelle!” Draco shouts again, and Estelle glares back, mirroring his fists on his hips and sneer perfectly. “And they’re not going to attack a  _ Malfoy _ .”

“I’ve known them longer, and they like me!” A little pink tongue poked out and she blew a raspberry at her brother. “So they’ll attack you first.”

Draco looked back at her, befuddled and irritated. “Well I’m home now, so obviously I’ll become the favorite and then you’ll be the one bit.”

“Draco, stop harassing your sister,” Narcissa said firmly, her tone leaving no guess to the punishment that would follow if Draco did not listen. “There are times to drop an issue, and you need to learn when that is. This is one of those times.”

“But, she’s-!” He snapped his jaw shut when his mother shot him a side look that to Harry clearly said to button up, and Draco read the message loud and clear. He settled for a glare at his sister, who stuck her tongue out again, and he mimicked her before a deep throat clearing had him sheepishly straightening his face back to normal. “Yes, Mother.” 

Lucius gave Draco a similar stern eye that had him looking away, and Harry had to once again fight back laughter. “Welcome home, boys.” He said with open arms and Draco giggled - all irritation forgotten - as he dove in for a hug. “I am so glad you are home, my dragon.” Harry heard him whisper before he waved at Harry impatiently. “Don't just stand there looking like I kicked your crup, Harry, come here.” Harry snorted at that, he wasn’t about to admit he was feeling just a bit left out, and accepted the warm hug from his godfather.

“I missed you, Uncle Lucius.” He said with a grin as he stepped back to stand again with Neville, who hadn’t lost the green tinge yet. 

The man stood back to full height with a warm smile aimed at him. “And I, you, Harry. The manor is decidedly less bright without you and Draco running around causing trouble.” He said with much mirth in his eyes, despite the stern tone he adopted.

“Who, us?” Harry asked innocently, his hands coming up to clasp behind his back and he rocked back on his heels. “I’ll have you know that I am the picture of obedience.”

He glared at Draco’s snort, knowing immediately what he was calling him in his head. Harry was certain it was only his father’s presence that kept Draco’s tongue still. “I know.” Uncle Lucius said dryly. “I’ve received numerous owls from your father detailing my son’s adventures this year already.”

There was an audible gulp from the young blond and Harry and Neville both hid grins behind their robe sleeves. “I’m making the most of my time at school,” Draco said with a mask of bravado.

“Perhaps the time could be better allocated, such as directed to your studies,” Lucius suggested, and Harry heard the order in the tone before he lightened back up, placing a gentle hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Make your introductions.”

Immediately, the air cleared as the reminder there was a guest present had them all looking at the now red-faced first year. “Oh, right!” Draco whirled to beckon Neville forward, who stumbled when Harry gave him a little encouraging push. “Father, may I introduce the Heir to the Longbottom estate, my friend Neville.”

“It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Lord Malfoy.” Neville stumbled so heavily over his words Harry could barely understand him and his heart ached at how anxious his friend was.

Uncle Lucius gave the trembling eleven-year-old a half-smile meant to comfort, Harry was certain. “The honor is mine, young Longbottom. I hope you find your stay in my home comfortable.” He tapped his cane on the ground and Estelle jumped back from where her fingers were inside the bag of feed. “They’ve had enough, Poppet.” 

“But Papa, I’m hungry so they must be hungry!” 

That had the two adults grinning at her and Narcissa waved off towards the front doors. “Well, then off we go to dinner, darling. Shall we follow you to the dining room?”

“Okay, Mama!” Estelle darted off up the path, leaving the trio of first-years behind to follow.

Neville started when he was addressed suddenly. “Do you have any allergies, Mr. Longbottom?” Lucius asked and Neville shook his head so rapidly Harry thought his head might fall off.

“No, sir. None.”

“Do you like chocolate?” Estelle shouted from where she was already bouncing by the door waiting for them. 

He smiled a little at her. “Yes.” 

It seemed he was stuck in short answers, and Harry really hoped he would relax soon. He really liked being here at his godparent’s house, and he wanted Neville to have a fun time, too.

The door swung open to reveal what Harry thought was probably the most beautiful Yule decor he’d seen Auntie Cissa use yet. Lining the entire entry way were tall, white, spindly birch trees decorated with tiny twinkling soft white lights. Garland of evergreen speckled with bright red berries wove their way around the ceiling and over all the railings and he couldn’t wait to see what the tree room looked like this year. And there, by the receiving Floo, was a small stack of plain wrapped gifts and he looked over at her inquiringly, hopefully.

She gave him a secret smile and tapped his wrinkled nose. “Those are for after dinner, love. There is one for each of you.” She gave him a little nudge towards the hall that led to the dining room. “First, though, it is imperative we eat dinner. I’m quite sure you boys ate nothing but sweets on the train.”

Three sheepish smiles later and her laughter rang merrily through the marble hall.

~~*~*~~

Harry would be sleeping if he couldn’t hear Neville tossing and turning in the bed next to him. Blaise never moved in his sleep, and Draco’s particular noises he was used to by now with how often they slept over at each other’s homes. 

“Harry, are you still awake?”

The voice was so quiet Harry was almost certain he imagined it. But instead of ignoring it, he sat up and propped himself up on his elbows. “Yes.” It had only been a matter of time before Neville had attempted to wake him, and he was glad to already be awake.

“Oh thank Merlin.” He sounded more than relieved and Harry’s concern for him skyrocketed. Neville’s next words were so tremulous, Harry could barely understand him. “They’re nothing like I was told.” 

“Who, the Malfoys?”

“Yeah. Uncle Algie always says…well it’s nothing good, anyway.” Harry could hear his head move on the pillow and focused his hand towards the lamp between their beds. It wasn’t magic, per-say, just a nudge to turn one light on softly so he could see his friend properly. “I was expecting someone cold or cruel, not…” There was a little sharp inhale as Neville switched what he was saying. “It’s just...she gave me a rare book, Harry! One worth hundreds of galleons!” The wonder in his voice faded into sadness. “They could sell it, or trade it, not waste it on someone like me.”

He didn’t like that, not at all. “You’re not a waste, Neville.” Harry said immediately. It was if someone had told him that enough times for him to begin to believe it! He ignored the skeptical look on the other boy’s face as he next out, “and I know Auntie Cissa doesn’t see the book as something valuable. It’s a book she thought you would enjoy, and that means more to her than the galleons she could get for it. She’d have sold it already if that were the case.”

Neville was still shaking his head no. “It’s a rare herbology book Harry! Written by the most famous of all the herbologists in the wizarding world. She said that a “little bird” had told her I was “quite adept with plants and felt the book was better off in my hands than rotting away in the Malfoy libraries”. The tone was flat and unamused, and maybe a little overwhelmed with it all. 

Harry, however, just grinned because he  _ was _ amused and quite used to his godmother’s antics. Not to mention, he knew just who that little bird was, and he wasn’t a bird at all, though he was often described as the Great Bat of the Dungeon from the way his robes billowed as he walked. “She always gives us gifts when we stay over, and it’s always either educational or quidditch related. She likes to spoil Draco, and Draco likes his friends to be spoiled as well.” He knew his tone was one of fondness mixed with longsuffering for his wealthy, pureblooded best friend. “You’re obviously included in that group now, so you’ll have to get used to that I’m afraid.” 

Neville fell silent at that, the only sound in the room now the slip of fabric over fabric. Finally, he whispers, “I’m not used to being so spoiled. Not really.”

Weren’t the Longbottoms a wealthy family? Maybe not like Draco, no one was rich like they were, but certainly up there with families like the Parkinsons and his own Potter vault. Plus, Neville was her grandson! His pseudo grandmother, Uncle Moony’s mum, loved to spoil him rotten, and they weren’t even related by blood! “Doesn’t your grandmother give you gifts?”

He nodded but scowled as he sat up finally and crossed his arms over his drawn-up knees. “But other than my birthday or Christmas, it’s not often, only when she returns from a trip, and she’s gone more than she’s home.” He looked up, suddenly panicked. “I don't want to sound ungrateful! I appreciate that she thinks of me, and buys me something.”

That admission had Harry’s heart dropping into a deep pit in his chest. He thought Neville’s grandmother was the primary guardian, and his uncle was only there on occasion. “Who actually takes care of you then? If your gran is out of town so much?” 

But his hopes were dashed immediately. “My great uncle Algie.” Neville sounded so despondent Harry wanted to cry for him.

“The same one who threw you off a pier? And out a window?” _ Please no please no please no. _

Neville nodded and to Harry’s horror, shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not so bad. He usually thinks I’m too useless to bother so I’m pretty much left to entertain myself. You, Draco, Pansy, and Blaise are the first friends I’ve really had, aside from Cactus.” Then a sour look crossed the round boy’s face. “Oh, and I suppose Trevor.”

Blaise had volunteered to watch the toad over break, since Neville wasn’t going home. Harry knew how much his friend missed his rat and wished he could have him visit or something, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep Gemma from attempting to eat either it  _ or _ the toad, hence why Trevor was with Blaise and Cactus at the manor. 

“She gave me a book on rare and unusual potion ingredients,” Harry said in an effort to draw the attention back to the conversation at hand. “And Draco a book on spells.” Each of them had also received with it a beautiful journal and self-inking quill, and a personal note inside. Harry had smiled broadly at her claims that perhaps with this book, he could rival even the great Nicolas Flamel one day.

Neville groaned and flopped back onto his pillow, arms outstretched, “That’s just what Draco needed, more ways to cause trouble.”

It took a long bit before Harry could breathe enough to reply. Even still, it was through tears of laughter when he said, “Did I ever tell you about the time he caught the shrieking shack on fire?” He figured the natural move in conversation was a good time to put in a distraction for his anxious friend.

“No!” That had the boy sitting back up, eyes wide and excited. “No, you’ve said things about it, but never explained the whole thing.”

All thoughts of sleep fell aside as Harry geared up to retell the tale of the day Draco attempted to mash Latin together and accidentally created an uncontrollable inferno. He always liked having an attentive audience when sharing a tale.

~~*~*~~

16 December 1991

Monday

Sea Cottage

~~*~*~~

(Harry is reading aloud in Parseltongue)

_ The Horned Serpent is a magical snake found in several regions of the world, but is most common in North America. Horned Serpents are regarded as intelligent, with fierce eyes. _

< “They can’t be that intelligent, if they are commonly killed for wizards use.” > Gemma was making commentary as Harry read aloud from a very small book titled “Rare Wand Cores and How to Use Them”, and some of her comments were rather entertaining. 

< “It’s a very rare core, actually. Not a lot of wandmakers will use it Also, the snakes aren’t killed, just bits of the horns are taken.” > Harry tried to explain it in a way she’d understand. < “Like how Papa says your old skin is useful in some potions, but he wouldn’t murder you for it.” >

She hissed an irritated huff. < “Still.” > She pointed at the book with her tail. < “Continue, please. I’m interested in hearing how this brother of mine’s horn is so special it can be used in a wizard’s wand.” > Harry obliged, the passage difficult to read in English and then translate it into parsel for Gemma, but he was determined to do so for his lovely companion, if only because she expressed interest in the topic. 

_ There are several different species of Horned Serpents found world-wide; large specimens are found in the Far East, and the most diverse group still in existence is native to North America. _

_ Horned Serpents have a horned head, thus why they are named. Certain American species also sport a jewel in the forehead. _ _ These serpents emit a low, musical note to sound for danger. Shavings from its horn can be used as wand cores. _ _ Its jewel is said to grant powers of invisibility and flight, thus making it the most sought after element of the species.  _

_ _ He snorted when he heard Gemma hiss under her breath something about it being no wonder to her now why humans would kill them if they had jewels granting invisibility and flying powers embedded in them. He kept reading instead of responding.

_ The horn of a Horned Serpent is a wand core first used by Ilvermorny founders James Steward and Isolt Sayre when they began crafting wands during the 17th century. This core is exceptionally powerful, sensitive to Parseltongue, and can warn their owners of danger by emitting a low musical tone. _

Here, he paused in his reading and frowned. He’d never heard any sort of musical tones with his wand in his possession and mentioned so to Gemma, who cocked her head curiously. < “Perhaps that means my sleepwalking isn’t dangerous?” >

She shook her head in her semblance of a shrug. < “It would be something to discuss with Papa Severus.” >

Harry hummed noncommittally and resumed scanning the page. < “The book says that owners with this wand have great intellect and are creative and inventive.” >

< “That seems generous.” > She teased and Harry stuck his tongue out at her. 

< “I  _ am _ smart.” > He said matter-of-factly. < “I just have a problem with what it says next.” >

< “And what is it?” > Gemma hissed dryly. < “That you are emotional and sensitive?” >

Harry scowled at her. She was right on the button. < “I’m not sensitive.” > He mumbled and she laughed her hissy laugh. < “It also says I’m gullible and naive and trust that people will always be honest, and that’s not true.” >

< “Not everything with your wand will apply to you, didn’t you read that in the opening of your book?” > She said reproachfully, before giving him a rather human look of amusement. 

< “Yes.” > He glared at her again. It had said that, but he didn’t like that it wasn’t completely accurate. < “Shouldn’t it be though?” >

She doesn’t respond to that save for a pointed look and a tail gesturing towards the book. He sighed, he knew he was being ridiculous, and obliged once again. 

_ They have talents when it comes to raising vegetables and fruits. Producing their own food and cooking are common hobbies. They love to share food with others and see it as a bonding experience.  _

_ It is a powerful core and takes great concentration to cast spells at their maximum capabilities. Though they are able to concentrate deeply, these witches and wizards also adapt well to new circumstances. It takes a lot to make them flustered. _

_ These witches and wizards are often excellent flyers. A fear of heights is less common among horned serpent owners than the general population. _

_ The elemental composition of this wand is water and air-based, with earth as a secondary element. They prefer to pair with lightning-based woods. It is talented in magic to do with invisibility, music, flying, compulsion, and life force. _

< “And then it goes into my best subjects, and careers, and all that.” > He closed the book, uninterested in those sorts of lists as he was already certain what career he wanted to have, and as such already had what classes he needed to do well set in stone. 

He could see why the wand core chose him, it really did fit him fairly well for the most part, but there were a few things that worried him. For instance, he was a parseltongue and the realization he’d never heard his wand sing had him wondering if his wand truly  _ was _ broken, or if his wand didn’t think he was in much danger with his sleepwalking. 

< “What was your second core?” > She asked and he held out the next book, the one on wand embellishments including core soaks and wand handle overlays.

< “Werewolf Saliva.” > He set the book aside, having already done his research on the saliva once he found out Uncle Remus could use his own. < “The saliva helps a lot with the magic of potions, which means since Uncle Moony helped, I should be even better.” > Not that they were brewing much in class yet. Potions class was rather boring this year, having already completed the curriculum over the years with Papa in the form of cooking and his chores and home practice. He’d helped brew the wolfsbane for goodness sakes! They weren’t doing much brewing, instead focusing on the various steps involved in brewing including stir patterns, flame colors, and cutting methods. 

He absently thought to speak to his father or Professor Slughorn about perhaps being in a higher level class beginning his second year.  _ Maybe I could even take my OWL for it! Imagine that, being the youngest in an upper-level potion's class! _ He shook his head to clear his hopeful dreams and returned to the last book. The book was the most recent edition of a tome authored by the leading wandmakers of the century and covered the main wand woods used by wandmakers as well as accepted wand cores across all borders and he scanned the index to find what page black walnut would be on.

He read the entry out loud to Gemma, who hummed in all the correct places as she listened.

_ Less common than the standard walnut wand, that of black walnut seeks a master of good instincts and powerful insight. Black walnut is a very handsome wood, but not the easiest to master. It has one pronounced quirk, which is that it is abnormally attuned to inner conflict, and loses power dramatically if its possessor practices any form of self-deception. If the witch or wizard is unable, or unwilling, to be honest with themselves or others, the wand often fails to perform adequately and must be matched with a new owner if it is to regain its former prowess. Paired with a sincere, self-aware owner, however, it becomes one of the most loyal and impressive wands of all, with a particular flair in all kinds of charmwork. _

Harry’s eyes fell to his wand sitting on the table in front of him, his voice trailing off as he finished the passage. His brain was suddenly plagued with worry.  _ Is Pansy wrong? Would being convinced that I’m in the wrong house count as self-deception? Is that why my wand doesn’t work well for me? _ Both of his cores also seem rather finicky overall, and paired with  _ that _ wand wood, he’s gripped with a terror that his wand would never work for him again.

“Why am I not surprised to see you already working on your holiday homework?” He heard from the door and looked over to see his father standing there in his bathrobe, hair flying about his head like he had just awoken and came straight out of his room instead of taking a shower.

“Good morning, Papa.” He looked back at the parchment and books and quill set in ink and realized just what it looked like to an outside perspective and flushed. “And no, it’s just research into my wand. Pansy thinks it’s not working because I’m not in the right house.” Gemma gave a hiss as she slid off his shoulder to the floor and he smiled a little. “And Gemma says good morning and she’s going back to bed now. Apparently reading makes her tired.” 

“Harry…”

His face scrunched when Papa didn't take the distraction. “I  _ have  _ accepted my sorting.” He said.  _ Mostly _ . “I just wanted to learn more about my wand. It really isn’t working well, and I wanted to find out why. Pansy’s theory just made sense at the time.” It still did, it was what he honestly believed as well, but he wasn’t going to keep talking to Papa about that, not if he wasn’t going to listen to him about it.   
  


“Hmm.” There were no more words as papa set about making his morning coffee, the ritual comforting and soothing in its familiarity. Once a cup was held in his large hands did he continue the conversation. “And did you learn anything interesting?”

“Apparently, my ability to understand and speak parseltongue was relevant to my core. The horn of the serpent should sing whenever I’m in danger.”  _ But it isn’t _ , was the silent addition he didn’t add.

But Papa seemed to think along the same lines Harry was, at least in terms of what it meant for his sleepwalking. “Then perhaps the sleepwalking  _ is _ merely stress.” But it didn’t seem he was convinced by that idea. And frankly, neither was Harry. “Have you any plans for what you shall do with Mr. Longbottom first, today?” 

Harry grinned at the change of subject and stuck his quill back in the jar. “Yeah, I was hoping we could go to the forest and gather up the evergreen and holly today.” The sky had seemed clear when he looked out first thing that morning, but he knew from experience that the island combined with the winter and the darkness hid a lot of weather from easy prediction. “I hope it doesn’t storm, we have to gather everything first before we can decorate and it’s already so late in the season.”

They had only arrived home late the evening before, and Harry was more than eager to get the whole holiday started. They had usually begun much closer to the first of December with the decorating and the festivities, but due to being at a boarding school now, he knew things couldn’t stay the same. Sure, Hogwarts was always decorated, but it was for the Anglican Christmas, and he hated seeing the garishly decorated halls in a bastardization of the traditions he loved so much.

“I don’t believe we will have any issues. The sunrise appears to be unhindered this morning.” Papa said from his vantage point by the window. “However, I anticipate there will be a surprise storm this afternoon, so I believe the glen will have to wait until tomorrow or Wednesday.” 

He was disappointed, but not surprised at the order. He’ll never forget the storm that nearly killed him when he was eight, and he’ll never underestimate the unpredictability of the island’s weather again. “Is Neville staying the whole time with us?” If he were, then missing the glen today would bother him even less because that would mean they had plenty of time for all the adventures Harry had planned.

Papa waggled his head noncommittally, sipping at his steaming mug quietly. “Augusta promised the 23rd, though he will be with us at least until the investigation into his home life is complete, which could be anytime this week until the end of January, depending on how many people need to be interviewed.” That sounded worrying, if Harry could voice what he was feeling hearing that because just how many people could be involved in hurting Neville? Thankfully Papa continued. “Just based on what I managed to glean from my conversation with Augusta, I would be very surprised indeed if there is not an arrest made. I also have no doubt that she will be cleared of charges, and once the home is deemed safe for him, he will likely need to return then.” 

Papa hadn’t told Harry just how he had gotten Neville to their cottage, nor did he elaborate now about what Lady Longbottom thought of the whole affair now, and Harry knew better by now than to push into affairs that didn’t pertain to him. Besides, he could always ask Neville about it later when it was all over. Just knowing that the same uncle that liked to throw Neville out of windows and into lakes was under investigation from the ministry and would likely be removed was a relief.

“I hope he likes it here.” He said quietly and Papa patted his shoulder with a soft touch.

“I am sure if he isn’t enjoying himself, you will do all in your power to ensure he does.” He passed by Harry to fetch a spoon to stir at his coffee. “And just where is Neville this morning?”

“Taking a shower.” Though when Harry strained to hear the water running, the house was silent, so perhaps he was already finished. “Or he’s still asleep.” That was also a possibility. While he’d woke up the other boy, he hadn’t stuck around to make sure he had actually rolled out of the cot, and Neville usually didn’t wake on his own.

“Any dreams or unusual wanderings?”

Papa had begun asking Harry that exact question every morning since the day he had had the unicorn vision and Harry feared that it would continue until his sleepwalking stopped. He had even firecalled at the Malfoys to ask him before breakfast yesterday! Though, he could admit he had brought it on himself, attempting to hide it all from his father in the first place. “No sir, nothing.” In fact, it had been the best night sleep he’d had in months.

The sound of footsteps moving about upstairs had Harry looking up. It seemed Neville was finally awake and out of bed. “I believe that is my cue to begin breakfast,” Papa said into his mug as he drained the last of the warm liquid. “And yours to clean off the table and set it for three.”

“Yes, Papa.” Harry jumped to obey. Hopefully, the day would remain just as perfect as he planned. He wanted to make sure Neville had the best Yule ever, especially if he had to return to his grandmother’s care in a few days.

~~*~*~~

The wind howled around the cottage, making Harry shiver involuntarily. Papa could well be a MagiMeteorologist with how often he ended up being correct when it came to the random storms that sprang up on the island. Of course, he couldn’t catch everything, as Harry well remembered from when he was eight and the storm snuck upon them both. 

Papa had just finished telling the story of the animals and the discovery of fire, the same one he’d heard many times during Yule, and the wide-eyed wonder Neville had at the end of it was almost comical.

Almost.

“How much have I missed not knowing about Yule?” The boy breathed, hands coming up to frame his cheeks. “I mean, sure, Gran never really let us celebrate the holidays, but it just seems like...like Yule is important to know about.”

Harry beamed at his friend, coming up on his knees before leaping to his feet to start winding the popcorn and cranberry garland around the tree. Neville followed suit in standing and began decorating the tree with the little ornaments of orange slices and cinnamon sticks. Papa would add the candles once everything else was complete. “All the sabbats are! They’re part of our heritage, our magic! If we don’t know our roots, we can’t fully be connected to Lady Magic.” 

All the rituals over the years had been tied into his growth, socially, physically, mentally, and spiritually, from his birthdays to his wand. He couldn’t imagine going through life without those milestones, without those blessings to get him through the following months until the next gathering. 

But the look Neville shot him was one of skepticism. “But what about all the witches and wizards who are magically strong and don’t practice the old ways? If the old rituals were that important, wouldn’t we all have become squibs eventually if we refused to practice?”

Papa cut in to answer here. “That is not to say you cannot be magically powerful if you choose not to practice the pagan rites and rituals.” Harry looked away from the unimpressed look he was being given by his father as he spoke. It’s what he’d learned through the gatherings, that one was stronger when surrounded by the community in both love and magic. “Hard work, determination, and diligent study all aid in your magic’s growth. However, Harry is correct in that the rituals and ceremonies all help remind us where our magic comes from, and gives us time where we can break from our daily lives to show gratitude and joy for the various gifts Lady Magic has given us.”

“Or to celebrate when a milestone has been reached.” Harry pointed out and Papa gave him an indulgent smile.

“Yes, such as births, and crossings, or if perhaps a worked for goal is achieved at last.” Papa’s face flushed just a hair when Harry whooped a little. 

“Like when you started your apprenticeship with Master Aziz!”

“It is more polite to refer to him as Master Bernard.” He reprimanded stiffly, but the boy was not deterred.

“He said I could call him Aziz.” Harry retorted petulantly. “I only use Master because it’s what he is and that is polite enough.”

“Harry James.”

He immediately flushed at the sharp tone and looked down, embarrassed to be admonished in front of a friend. “Sorry.” He muttered.

Papa nodded his acceptance and continued. “But yes, such as when I began my apprenticeship. Many practices have fallen to the wayside as past Dark Lords have used them in nefarious ways over the centuries and those who wish not to be seen as sided with them have often gone to great lengths to avoid them, only the latest of whom being He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” 

Harry realized that whenever Papa was speaking about Voldemort, the dark lord who had enslaved him back in the first war, he used the moniker forced upon them: The Dark Lord. And as such, Harry tended to use it. But when around others, Papa was careful to use the accepted phrase for the evil man.  _ Maybe I need to be more careful. _ He didn’t speak much about the Dark Lord, but calling him that would surely mark him as a follower or close to someone who was if he said it around the wrong person.

“I guess that’s why Gran never told me about Yule, or any of the sabbats,” Neville said with a tone of bitterness Harry was unaccustomed to hearing from his friend. “She doesn’t like anything to do with the old ways, the things she considers old fashioned or too connected to the dark side of magic. I think it’s because of my dad.” 

Harry hoped he’d continue, he was curious about Neville’s parents, but the other boy clammed up and stared at his hands as he continued to slowly decorate the tree. But Papa saved him from having to find an answer.

“I think you are correct there, Neville. When our hearts are in pain, we sometimes do irrational things for the sake of protecting ourselves and the people we love.” Harry could hear the pain in his voice, and knew he was speaking from experience. “All you can do is be understanding and respectful of her wishes while learning the old ways for yourself. There is nothing that says a young wizard cannot practice his own spiritual beliefs, just be mindful of when and where you practice should you choose to go a different path than that your Gran taught you. Disrespect to one's ancestors and guardians is in poor taste, unless being asked to do something dangerous or illegal, and it does not do you well to offend anyone.” 

“Yessir.”

~~*~*~~

20 December 1991

Friday

Sea Cottage

~~*~*~~

The two owls pecked at each other for dominance as they flapped there in front of the window, calming only as Papa stood to gather the letters they carried. After feeding the birds and sending them back on their way, a quick scan of each had one being passed off to Harry while the other remained in his hand.

Harry watched him read his letter for a bit, wondering who it was from, before turning to his own. It was stamped with Blaise’s family’s seal, and he wondered why Blaise was writing when he was supposed to be showing up later that morning with Pansy and Draco. 

  
  
  


_ Dear Harry, _

_ I wish I had better news. I cannot make it today. Mother wishes for us to spend the entire holiday together, claiming she has missed us both too terribly to allow us out of her sight, but promises a gathering over Easter hols since it falls between the two sabbats. She said she’d owl your father for details later. See you back at Hogwarts! Give Draco and Pansy my love! _

_ Blaise _

_ Second Son _

_ Zabini House _

_ Ps. And Neville, too! I forgot for a moment he was at your house! I enclosed a picture of Trevor for him _

  
  
  


He was grinning at the picture of the sleeping toad before passing it to Neville, who took it and sighed at the photo. Harry saw a little grin on his lips, however, and knew that no matter how much he complained about the wayward toad, he did love the creature. 

“Neville.”

Both boys looked up at the gravely voice. “Your grandmother wishes to pass along the news that your uncle is now in Azkaban, she’s banished him from the family, and that if you have no objections to remaining with us for the remainder of the holiday, she is planning to use the rest of her holiday to recuperate from the investigation.”

The sad light that entered Neville’s eyes broke Harry’s heart. “Did she say anything else?” For his credit, there was only a small waver in his voice when he spoke.

The parchment was lowered and slid across the table. Neville took it up in trembling hands as Papa answered. “She says she loves you and would like you home for Easter so you two may spend the time together. She simply desires you to enjoy the rest of your break and to allow her time and some space to heal.”

Joy and then anxiety replaced the sadness, and the anxiety bled through clearly when he asked, “But are you sure I can stay…?”

“Yes.” Papa interrupted before Harry could, his voice calm and level. “I anticipated housing you the entirety of your holiday when I extended the invite.” Then a large, slender hand covered the boy’s smaller, pudgier one. “My home is open to you, for as long as you need. And if circumstance makes it so I can no longer do so, the Malfoy’s have requested that were no one related to you available, they would then take care of you.”

Neville’s mouth dropped open. “They...they what?”

“I told you!” Harry said, almost exasperated with his friend. “If Draco calls you a friend, they will move the heavens and earth to help you.”

“As will I.” Papa finished with a nod. “You have plenty of people on your side. Relax, and enjoy the rest of your Yule.” Neville’s chin was quivering by the end of Papa’s speech, eyes filling with tears, and there was an abrupt change in Papa’s tone as he turned to Harry. “Your other friends will be here within the hour and you have your chores still to complete, son.”

Harry took the dismissal for what it was, a chance to give Neville some privacy. “Yessir.”

~~*~*~~

Beach

~~*~*~~

“It seems sincere enough to me,” was Pansy’s final declaration on the letter from Neville’s gran as they sat in their warmest clothing on the rock in the center of the beach. “I would need time to adjust if I found out one of my siblings was a total slimeball.”

Today was not snowing, and the sun was out, but that did not make it warm in the slightest. However, Harry and Neville were both sick of being cooped up inside, and Papa had promised to call them in when he needed their help in the kitchen again. He was prepping all the ingredients for the next day’s meals in an effort to help keep the small kitchen cleaner while cooking and had shooed them outside himself, claiming he needed them not to be underfoot.

“I know she’s being sincere.” Neville snatched the parchment back and glared at Harry. “It’s him who is paranoid it’s all a ruse.”

“Well your uncle is a jerk, so forgive me for being concerned.” Harry spat back, arms folding indignantly across his chest. 

The air grew stiff with the tension now growing. “We could go flying,” Draco suggested quietly in an effort to clear it.

Harry shook his head before Neville could make a protest. The other boy had yet to have a practice where he managed more than a wobbly forward movement for just a few yards. It was apparent he’d not had a child broom growing up like he and Draco had. “Papa won’t let me fly if it’s wet out, even if it’s not actively snowing or raining.” He provided instead. The sentiment was true, after all, and removed the attention from Neville’s inability to grasp flying. 

“He’s so overprotective.” Draco sighed with a hint of irritation, staring wistfully at the sky instead of his friends. 

“I’m only here today.” Pansy reminded them and they all gave a little start. “I have to leave after dinner, and I’m no fonder of flying than Neville is.”

They couldn’t argue against that. While she could fly, she had taken quite well to a broom in classes, she didn’t exactly enjoy the activity. “Well what do  _ you _ want to do then?” Neville asked softly. “I’ve been here all week, Harry lives here, and-”

“And both of us have been here more times than we can count.” Draco interrupted with an eye roll. “But since I’m going to be here tomorrow as well, I suppose we can do what Pansy wants today.”

“You visit here far more often than I do.” The girl harrumphed, matching Draco’s eye roll with a spectacular one of her own. “And we don’t usually make it to the woods at all.”

Well, that made the decision rather easy in Harry’s mind. He and Draco did some, and he of course knew the forest around his home quite well, and he always enjoyed tromping through the dense evergreen. “Exploring the woods it is!” Harry declared and with a point off towards the forest, the quartet marched their way up from the beach and towards the treeline. He knew just how far he could go before Papa’s  _ sonorous  _ wouldn’t reach and they wouldn’t go even close to that far away.

~~*~*~~

21 December 1991

Saturday

Sea Cottage

~~*~*~~

“Look, there’s a set for you, too Neville!”

The other boy looked stunned to see Draco holding up a wrapped package identical to the ones the other three children had opened, Estelle already donning hers despite her parent’s gentle admonishings otherwise. (“It’s  _ Yule _ , Mama. That means its a sabbat which means I can wear my robes.”) It was hard to argue with that logic.

Neville swallowed hard as he accepted the soft gift, the paper falling way to reveal robes identical to the handspun ceremonial robes Draco and Harry had also unwrapped. Every couple of years, as they grew taller, the robes would have to be replaced as extending charms would only work so much before deteriorating the fabric, and Harry’s newest robes had been the snow-white ones for his coming of age ceremonies. Estelle’s robes this year were her first set of robes outside of the infant/toddler sizes and it was no wonder she refused to stop wearing them, really.

Harry thanked his papa softly, grateful for the new robes he could now wear the next gathering. If he remembered correctly, the next ritual he and Draco would be able to attend was going to be Litha in the summer, unless he and Papa could sneak away as they did for Samhain. A slip of parchment with the robes indicated they were specially designed for the growth spurts that occur among adolescents and he grinned at the idea that he might not have to have new robes for awhile. 

Papa nodded at him before turning to Neville to explain the gift. “Those are yours to use for any of the rituals or gatherings you might attend. You may keep them here if you are afraid of your grandmother confiscating them, or there are wards that can be used to protect your belongings from harm. You indicated a desire to learn more and potentially participate, and now you can should you ever wish.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Neville’s voice was so soft it was barely heard, but Harry watched as he stroked the rough spun fabric almost with reverence and knew Papa had chosen well. He wouldn't be surprised if Neville wanted to know about the other sabbats as well. “I’ll keep them here, with Harry, if that’s really alright. But I would like to learn the wards, too.” 

“Of course, I would not have suggested it otherwise.”

Impatient to move on with unwrapping gifts, Draco shoved another box across the floor towards the round boy with blond hair darker than his own. “Last gift, Neville! It’s from Mother!”

An identical box was passed along to Harry as well, who eagerly peeled back the paper. The length of the box indicated it was most likely brooms, their first real brooms that weren’t designed for children, and as the paper fell away he and Draco both nearly shrieked with excitement, and he barely registered Neville’s faint moan of dismay.

Inside lay the packaging for the latest broom on the market, the Nimbus 2000. Harry hadn’t really looked at the brooms when they were at Diagon, not wanting to taunt himself with something he wouldn’t be allowed to have at school until next year. But here one sat, for each one of them, and with a start, he realized Neville was absolutely not going to be thrilled about this gift.

He was ashen-faced and trembling but thanked Narcissa politely regardless. But she knelt in front of him and lay a gentle hand on the one on top of the broom box. “Neville, I know you are not comfortable or confident when it comes to flying. If you would like, I am offering you some lessons before your return to school. I was a fair flyer in school, and..”

“Mother, don’t be so modest!” Draco gasped with great indignation. “You were the best! You could have been professional!”

She blushed and looked away. “Thank you, Darling, but you are biased.” She returned her attention to Neville. “You are under no obligation, of course. But I do believe that every witch and wizard would benefit from broom abilities. One never knows when one will need to fly.” 

Neville looked from her back down to the broom and then up to her face again. “I suppose, I could try. Thank you, Lady Malfoy.” 

Harry could see in her little sad smile that she greatly disliked how uncomfortable Neville still was around her. But that could only be helped through time and Harry knew it wouldn't be too long, especially if she’s able to grant him the self-confidence to fly. His godparents were simply too wonderful for him to consider anything else. “Harry, darling, I have one last gift for you. I intended this to be your birthday gift, but he was late in submitting the manuscript which set back the publishing, and so yesterday was the earliest I could retrieve it.”

A rectangle-shaped wrapped package was placed gently into his hands. He marveled at the weight, the contents quite obviously a book, and he wasted no time in unwrapping to reveal an unexpected title.

_ The Life and Teachings of Nicolas Flamel _

“Is…” He frowned and looked closer at the cover. “Is this a _new_ book?” It didn’t look like any of the covers of other potion books the man had written, and when he flipped the large tome the photo on the back showed a very recent photograph of him waving at the camera.

Her smile was proud and excited. “This is, in fact, his latest anthology - a sort of ‘Best Of’, at least in his words when I went to retrieve the book from him. I trust you will take great care to keep it safe.”

His eyes widened at her words, she’d actually gone to the revered alchemist himself to fetch the book, and he looked back down at the yet-to-be-released book with wonder. Reverently, he slid a finger along the bottom edge of the front cover to lift it up to see the title page, and he nearly dropped the book in shock. The author's name shone back at him in swoopy loops of ink. He tried to say something, really he did, but not even air seemed to escape his closed throat. Closing his mouth, he settled for an almost violent nod, closing the cover and resolving to read the book later.  _ Autographed, even! _

The book immediately elevated to the top of the list of books he wanted to protect, with the book on rare potions ingredients he’d received earlier that week and the book on elemental magic Uncle Remus had given him he’d left at home because of the fear of it being stolen. 

“If that is all, I believe it is time for my part of your yule gift.” Uncle Lucius spoke up from his comfortable spot by the fire. “Bring along a couple of items you wouldn’t mind potentially being destroyed. The process of learning to ward can sometimes be...destructive.”

~~*~*~~

Late, Late, Late night

Really, it's early morning

~~*~*~~

Severus Snape POV

It was only still technically Yule day because they had yet to go to bed. Remus had joined them at lunch, and the rest of the day had passed in joy and merriment, feasting and playing. They had sent the boys to sleep up in Harry’s room, Estelle on Severus’ bed with a spell of his own creation,  _ Muffliato _ , on both doors to keep the conversation private from ears too young yet to hear.

Over the hours since the children had gone to bed, they had covered many topics ranging from the articles discussing Harry’s parentage to poor Neville’s situation, though they were all glad the matter was mostly resolved now.

The conversation had dwindled long ago, each lost in their own thoughts. He was thinking about earlier in the day, before lunch, when Lucius had been teaching the boys how to ward an object against those who might harm or steal ones belongings. The ward in question would cause a little zap to the holder, causing them to release the object. He then taught them how to easily put the ward on hold were they wishing to give the object to someone willingly.

However, his thoughts were on how his son progressed through learning the wards. It seemed he struggled immensely, though he made every effort to disguise his troubles with his wand. The motions were perfect, the incantation flawlessly pronounced, but still, the ward only worked about half of the time, with the successful casts ranging from useless to barely acceptable. 

Neville wasn’t much better.

Draco had succeeded flawlessly in merely five attempts.

He knew Harry wasn’t exaggerating about his wand, about how it didn’t seem to work well for him, but he was less than even close convinced that it was related to Harry’s house placement. His son, despite his protesting, was a brave gallant young man and the house did fit him well in many ways.  _ Perhaps his magic isn’t ready yet to learn the wards. After all, he and Neville were born almost on the same day, and both boys struggled.  _ It would be a reason, logical and sound and possible, much more so than an incorrect sorting. After all, it was impossible to tamper with the hat’s ancient magics. 

Severus looked up from his glass of mulled wine to look over each of his friends in turn. The werewolf, the one who had once been one of his tormenters, now a close friend. Narcissa and Lucius, always having been there for him. They were his three closest confidants, and perhaps they could help him settle a matter he’d been wrestling in his mind. After all, he was due back at Hogwarts just after the start of the new year, and he needed to decide if Harry was going back with him or staying with the Malfoys until he found a way out of his teaching contract so he could homeschool the boy. He was leaning towards complete removal. It would be safer for his son.

He took in a breath before he spoke to break the extended silence. “With Harry’s sleepwalking and the now two visions he’s had, I’m at a point where I may remove him from Hogwarts.”

The protests he was expecting did not begin immediately. Instead, three thoughtful sets of expressions rested on him and he shifted uncomfortably. Narcissa looked almost angry, Remus understanding, and Lucius had an expression on that was hard to pin down, but if pressed, he’d say the man was worried. 

Lucius was the one who spoke first. “With what you and Remus have shared about the school year thus far, I can understand the desire. It is, after all, why I wished to have Draco attend Durmstrang initially.” Severus could hear the silent, ‘however’, in there and waited. “However, ( _ there it is) _ I believe this could be enough information to at least begin the process for a vote of no confidence. I have reports of other children experiencing horrific nightmares, and strange illnesses that vanish before a trip to the hospital wing can be taken. Some students have begun to photograph various reactions so they could document them before they were gone.”

That sounded alarming, indeed. He hadn’t heard anything from his Slytherins, but he hadn’t asked them either and resolved to have some meetings just as soon as they returned to school. “Any patterns, or risk of contaminations?”

A shake of the head had his heart sinking a bit. Remus took over. “No, but I have noticed they seem to be mostly muggle-born or half-blood students, though there are a number of purebloods who have also complained of problems.”

Lucius resumed the control. “Unknown causes of such ailments would certainly have some heads turning on the board. We meet in the second week of February unless I can somehow arrange it sooner. I will give you the results of our vote after.”

“But I do not think it means you should remove Harry.” Narcissa cut in before Severus or any of the other men could speak. “He will be in danger no matter where he is, just because of that scar on his forehead. Unless you plan on locking him in a tower without any chance of escape, I would put aside the ridiculous notion of removing him from the school!” She took a calming breath to pause in her growing hysterics. In a much calmer voice, she continued. “You would be removing him, from a threat sure, but also from his entire support structure. He has relied on his professors since he was five years old as they were his tutors. His friends all attend Hogwarts, and with these uncertain times, and the role he certainly will play in the final destruction of The Dark Lord, he needs as many close companions as he can find.”

She made all valid points, but he had a few of his own to make as well. “I have limited his ability to wander alone. I’m certain he believes I am being overly protective, but I cannot have him in such danger until we find out who or what is causing his sleepwalking.” He glanced up at the attic room and felt his gaze soften. “He’s had no issues here, no sleepwalking, no nightmares, no visions.”

“You cannot always protect him from what may haunt him in his sleep.” She shot back. “Overprotecting him at this point will not help, it will only cause him harm in the long run. However, I’m quite certain you know monitoring charms you can place so you know when he leaves the dorms at night.”

He did know such charms. He placed them on all the main dormitory doors in Slytherin that lead to each year, as well as the exit to the common room so he knew when someone entered or left. He’d used them on Harry as a young child, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t used them before now. “I will inform him and perform the charm tomorrow.” He promised. He wouldn’t just do something that invasive without at least telling Harry it was going to happen, even if the boy wouldn't have a say in if it happened or not. “But if one more significant thing happens to my son and I cannot remove the problem, I will remove him instead.”

  
No matter how Harry would fight him on the decision.  _ He _ was the parent. It was his responsibility to protect his child, even if the child didn’t enjoy the effects of that protection.  _ I will not lose him _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For wandlore, I used a combination of the Harry Potter wiki and a wand lore blog linked here. https://cloverwandlore.music.blog/


	11. Chapter 10: Return to Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named really puts a damper on writing fanfics of her works. Makes it especially difficult to work on Year 1 when I desperately wanted to explore a side character story arc that won’t become known to Harry until his fourth year nor resolve until his sixth. Ah well. I wrote the first draft of those scenes then returned to the current postings. Hope everyone is doing well! Happy almost Samhain!

~~*~*~~

4 January 1992

Saturday

Sea Cottage

~~*~*~~

It was early Saturday morning, just a day before the return to classes. Not quite four a.m., once he finally took the effort to sit up enough to grab his wand and check the hour. With an irritated soft sigh, he slumped back onto the pillow and silently bemoaned his bad luck. He’d once again woken up with the same dream about the dead unicorn he’d had before school let out, though this time the nightmare had taken an odd turn when he’d approached the unicorn and he’d discovered that instead of a creature, the one dead was Draco.

Scowling, he kicked at the soft bedding tangled around his legs in an attempt to free himself. Once untangled, Harry hurriedly slid out of bed, shivering as his bare feet met the cold wood floor. Taking great care to avoid tripping over Neville sleeping on the cot next to his desk, he donned his robe and slippers and tucked the new alchemy book he’d barely made a dent in so far under his arm. Harry made his silent way down to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water in the hopes that it would help soothe whatever restless bit of him that refused to let him rest. 

The flicker of low firelight made Harry’s decision of where to take his water and sit an easy one and it wasn’t long before he was buried under the fluffiest blanket in his favorite armchair by the fireplace with his new book by Nicolas Flamel forgotten in his lap in favor of deep thought.

If he’d been asked, he’d admit that his unease was more than likely due to the looming return to school. Now that the day was nearly upon him, he found himself wishing he  _ could _ stay home. But what he wasn’t certain on was if he merely wished to stay home, such as at the end of summer, or his desire to escape the mysterious happenings at school. And if the latter were the case, that seemed enough proof he couldn’t possibly be a true Gryffindor. A true Gryffindor would be brave enough to want to stay at the school and Harry wanted to hide under his bed instead.  _ Okay, so a little different than at the beginning of school _ , he thought wryly, twisting the blanket in his lap into little mountains. 

He wished Gemma was awake as he would welcome her advice, but she’d hissed irritatingly at him the night before that she was not to be disturbed until the moment of his departure only so she may bid her farewells before being apparated to the school and Harry’s room in the Snape staff quarters. And Harry knew better than to disturb her when she got like that. That left him alone to bounce thoughts to himself, as he was loathe to wake up Neville yet for something the other boy wouldn’t even be awake enough to assist with.

So he turned to his own logic in an effort to bolster what courage he possessed. If there was a reason he could conjure that seemed more logical than staying home, maybe that would help.  _ If I stay here, then they’ll never catch Dumbledore in whatever it is they’re trying to catch him doing. _ He knew they wanted to find proof of his instability, and that he was somehow crucial in gaining such, but Harry thought just talking to the old man was enough proof something had gone screwy up in the old brain so he wasn’t sure what else they were actually looking for.  _ Maybe illegal magic? Like, against students like me?  _ That was providing the Headmaster, or even someone else, was the one behind his sleepwalking and not his own mind reacting to stress.

Probably the most anxiety-inducing was the fact that his rings only protected against minor things, like accidents caused from potion mistakes while brewing or malicious jinxes or hexes intended to harm him in some fashion, but nothing could deflect one of the three illegal spells such as the imperious. Confundus was such a spell that would be easily negated by his ring, which meant if it was a compulsion spell of some sort, it would have to be either the imperious or some other dark unknown magic Harry hadn’t heard of yet.  _ It could also be a potion… _ He made a face as he thought about all the ways Papa had fed him his potions over the years. There were countless forms a potion could take and many ways the flavor could be masked by a strongly scented or flavored food such as haggis or pumpkin juice, both of which were served at Hogwarts, though haggis tended to only show on feast days. He’d have to ask his father if it were possible to get by the house elves to do something like that.

He perked when he heard a noise from inside his father’s bedroom. Instead of the door opening, however, he heard the hissing rush of water indicating that Papa was going to freshen up before breakfast today. Harry gave a forlorn look at his father’s door and let out a sigh.  _ I might as well read while I wait. _ Instead of choosing a specific passage, he closed his eyes and held the book gently in his hands with the spine in his lap and allowed the book to fall open where it would. It was one of his favorite ways of deciding what to read when the options were too numerous to possibly choose between. 

But when he opened his eyes, to his horror he saw not a wordy passage about some great alchemic work but instead a large photo of none other than the subject of his anxiety, the esteemed headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore shaking hands with the author of the book, the caption “receiving honors for the discovery of the secret to long life.” Harry scowled at the book and slammed it shut.  _ Of course, I can’t even read to escape my problems. _

He stared at the door, wishing desperately for Papa to make his appearance. Neville was still asleep despite the excitement about having a sleepover with Draco before returning to school and Harry was always an early riser. His being alone meant he was also alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts were centered around Albus Dumbledore and the Third Floor and the Cerberus and his wish to hide under his bed and he wanted to  _ stop _ thinking about those things now. 

Harry decided to mentally outline the facts in an effort to center his anxiety. It was an exercise he’d utilized before and had helped a bit then, perhaps it would now. He knew there was a giant Cerberus guarding something. He knew that the something was somehow involved in someone’s plan to trap something, but whether it was the headmaster or the staff who wanted Albus Dumbledore unseated he wasn’t certain. 

What did he want to know?  _ Everything _ . But he’ll start with: who actually designed the trap and what does the trap hold as the temptation? 

“Good morning, Harry. How did you sleep?” 

The sleep-rough rumbles of his father jolted him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see Papa closing his bedroom door. “Who is the third-floor trap designed for?” When a frown marred the pale forehead complete with deeply disappointed dark eyes Harry flushed at the lack of proper manners. He knew better. “I mean, good morning, Father.” He mumbled as he folded the blanket to put on the chair cushion. “I slept well. How did you sleep?”

Papa actually rolled his eyes and moved past him towards the kitchen doorway to begin his morning ritual of coffee and glowering at the Prophet. “Come, before you implode from anxiety.” He said as Harry scampered after him, snorting at the look of surprise Harry shot him. “Don’t forget I raised you. I know what your anxious ticks look like.” He drawled, amused dark eyes twinkling at him over the edge of the coffee cup. “Though at the moment, even a complete stranger would be immediately aware something was amiss with you.”

Harry automatically made his way to the cupboards to look for the oats to begin some oatmeal for their breakfast, throwing a grateful grin over his shoulder. “I know.” 

Papa continued to the sound of the hand grinder for the coffee beans, a careful eye watching Harry as he went through his preparations. He hadn’t been responsible for breakfast for long, but Harry had been assisting with the kitchen work since he could hold a spoon so the transition hadn’t been difficult for him. For Papa on the other hand... 

But while Harry felt irritated at the scrutiny, he knew Papa was far too cautious to allow unsupervised rein of the kitchen as of yet and forced his irritation to stay off his face. “As you make the oatmeal, I will tell you what it is you wish to know.”

Glad he was making the effort now to curb his impulsiveness, Harry turned and stared at his father, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why now?” All year he’d been telling Harry not to worry, not to dwell, not to think on the matters pertaining to the headmaster, and  _ now  _ he wanted him to know?

A small smile was aimed at him. “Because I have a very important job for you and your friends this term, and in order for you to perform well, you need additional information.” That potentially answered Harry’s initial question, that the trap on the third floor was perhaps designed for Albus Dumbledore, but it only raised others. 

“What do you need me to do?” He asked as he moved the pot of oatmeal to the counter to sit on a stone. Each person would decide what they wanted in their own bowls, and Harry moved to grab those next to set the table.

“I believe the current problem in drawing Albus’ action is the lack of discussion or hubbub about it around the school. My conclusion after much though is that he believes he can bide his time as no one is suspicious as to the true nature of what is hiding.” An eyebrow quirked and a slow smile spread across the pale face as Papa watched him think over his words.

It didn’t take much mulling over as he stirred the pot now simmering on the stove. It was true. None of the students even wanted to go to the third floor, and not many rumors had formed about what was housed inside after the first couple of weeks, mainly because no one even knew what could be there other than death. They were still discussing the troll and Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, not the third floor. And all Harry and friends knew was that there was a Cerberus inside an unused classroom with a trapdoor inside and that the three-headed dog couldn't possibly be the bait. “What is the true nature of what is hiding?” His tone was just shy of demanding, and he winced inwardly, vowing to mellow it the next time he spoke.

There was barely a pause before Papa dropped the proverbial bombshell. “The philosopher’s stone.”

The wooden spoon splashed into the oatmeal with a plop from his slackening fist as his mouth dropped open in tandem. He’d read vague things about the stone, supposedly able to grant the user a potion that granted everlasting life so long as they kept imbibing it, but he’d dismissed it as a rumor as none of the texts he’d read could discern as a fact if it even existed let alone who could have created it. “What exactly does it do? Who created it?”

This time Papa’s eyebrows rose high, dark eyes bright with surprise. “I would think you would know, seeing as the creator is both an author and one of your heroes.” He nodded towards where Harry had left his new alchemy book.

His eyes fell to the book now sitting on the kitchen table.  _ Nicolas Flamel _ had created the stone that granted long life? No wonder it’d been rumored he’d been living for hundreds of years, it was probably true. He renewed his vow to read the book cover to cover the first chance he got so he could learn more. He’d intended to over the holidays, but with Neville there, he’d barely had time to read. “But…” A little wrinkle formed on his forehead as his eyebrows drew together in thought, the picture he’d seen earlier returning to his focus. “He and Dumbledore worked together. In alchemy.” 

Papa blinked rapidly, more than likely subconsciously as he tried to move to Harry’s new train of thought. “Yes, I am aware of their history of working together.” He began slowly before picking up steam as he spoke. “Albus is in fact the one who requested Nicolas use of the alchemic stone as bait for whatever whoever he wanted a maze of traps to capture.”

So Papa hadn’t made the traps? “I thought you put it there.” HIs frown deepened as he thought further on the issue at hand. “I thought you and the other professors decided the traps and that they were for the headmaster?” Worry crept over his skin, leaving him feeling like ice. He’d hoped to relieve his anxiety, not add to it! 

Papa waggled his head from side to side noncommittally, seeming to now confirm Harry’s fear that the headmaster wouldn’t be lured by their object. “While we were in charge of the traps, it was at Albus’ direction.” He seemed to catch on to Harry’s rising terror because his tone dropped soothingly. “What better way to plan a coup than turn his own plans and ideas against him? Along with my part of the maze of traps, I ensured the stone that Albus has for the center is false. Nicolas himself put the stone in the center before the traps were set.”

The first year relaxed then, some of the twisting nausea caused by his anxiety abating and his courage bolstering. “So he didn’t work on the stone?” Papa shook his head to confirm and Harry frowned. “The stone is something amazing and rare and highly coveted but it’s fake so it won’t work if he gets a hold of it?” Again, Papa silently confirmed and his frown deepened. He wondered what Dumbledore’s purpose for the stone was if he had asked for it initially. Was it a cover to try and get a hold of the stone for himself? But if so, why hadn’t he gone for it yet?

When he’d remained quiet for too long, Papa softly spoke in his rumbly deep tones intended for comfort. “Harry, it’s the one item in the world he covets most. He has told me so himself, in late-night conversations we would have around the time I felt him too unstable to be around if I could help it.” The air was heavy with the direction the conversation had gone. Harry felt suddenly cold despite the permanent comfortable temperature charms set in the house. Papa rarely beat around the bush with him, choosing to tell Harry bluntly if a topic was beyond his current age, and discussing frankly when appropriate. “In having the object he ordered brought to the castle planted by the creator, and to then be denied the chance to interact with the stone in private, it created a temptation which  _ should  _ have been irresistible.”

“But it isn’t working because no one talks about the third floor.” The first year hypothesized and the man nodded. Harry grinned a little as an idea popped up. “Should I be careless and talk about what I’ve just learned about the elixir of life in the hallway?” At Papa’s skeptical look, he grinned despite himself. “I  _ was _ sorted Gryffindor, it’d be plausible to believe I’d be foolish enough to talk loudly in public about something I’m interested in, even if I really am smart enough to know that unfriendly ears are listening where you least expect it.”

Papa’s gaze filled with pride. “Despite your placement, you have enough cunning to thrive in my house and intellect in spades for Ravenclaw. That is, in fact, in line with what I was going to ask you to do. It was my hope you could utilize his irrational fear of Slytherin house churning out dark wizards like a muggle factory and spread the rumors first among the Slytherins. It is no secret you have no qualms about sitting where you wish regardless of house.” He suggested, tone drier than the desert, and Harry snorted in amusement at the sarcastic tone. “If he were to think it was the Slytherin house and not the Gryffindors who had the curiosity to seek it out, he will be more inclined I believe to advance foolishly enough for us to catch him in an error.”

“So talk about it with Draco and Pansy, got it.” He snapped his fingers and nodded sharply before returning his attention to finishing the last of the oatmeal preparation. The pair were the most likely to get something spread about the students, Draco from how loud he was and Pansy from her ability to scope out a story as well as having two older siblings who loved and doted on her and would assist in spreading any rumor that needed distributing. “We can make a plan today when we’re at Malfoy Manor.”

Harry secretly wished he knew the eye-rolling spell Papa used to use on him when he was small when he was met with yet another eye roll of exasperation. “Just be mindful of exactly  _ what _ you tell Draco.” The warning was clear in his tone. “It would not do to have him curious enough to cause problems.” Then, under his breath almost as if he hadn’t wanted Harry to hear, he added, “I’m beginning to think  _ he _ is the one who should have been sorted Gryffindor, not you.”

Harry smirked smugly at Papa’s under-the-breath declaration and nodded his agreement. He knew full well just what sorts of mischief Draco could conjure  _ without _ a wand let alone now that they were in school and learning properly and the aristocratic boy’s curiosity had no limits. Harry was certain it was only his friend’s ambition to be the best spell inventor ever in the history of magic that endeared the hat enough to put him into Slytherin house. 

A ping sounded from the timer on the wood stove and he returned his attention to breakfast. Giving a final stir, he stared contemplatively at the goop as his previous musings from earlier returned. “I have another question.” He said softly as he moved the oatmeal off the flame to rest and turned to give his father his full attention. The looming breakfast and the previous thoughts on his heir rings had him jumping to his earlier worries. “Can someone tamper with the food at Hogwarts? Like, add a potion or something to an individual plate?”

Dark eyes fix on him, unblinking and probing and Harry pushed at the forefront of his mind the memory of his mental discussion from earlier. After a long moment of silence, Papa frowned a little. “I had assumed it would be impossible, but that is because the house-elves are under the magic of the role of the Headmaster. If Albus is in fact the one attempting any of this…” 

The coal-black eyes narrowed further and Harry’s heart flipped.  _ Oh, please don’t forbid me from school _ . His anxiety mostly abated, he was now greatly looking forward to his orders to spread rumors and cause the headmaster problems and he couldn’t do that from Sea Cottage.

To his relief, he shook his head. “No, even Albus would not risk such a scheme. For a buffet-style meal as we have at school, there would be others at your table who would be suffering similar sleepwalking incidents.” But the eyes stay narrowed in thought and Harry wondered just what other restrictions he’s about to be held to. “I appreciate that you and your friends do not habitually sit at any one table. Keep that up, and you’re less likely to have tampered food. No one will dare poison a dish on a table the target isn’t guaranteed to sit at.” He gestured to Harry’s hand where the two heir rings sat invisibly. “I’ve been doing some research into the Potter ring, as the Prince ring negates most of what I have already tried to theorize is happening to you.”

Harry perked up. He’d tried to do a little research of his own, but Madam Pince wouldn't allow any first year into the forbidden section, even if a Professor’s child, and that was where most of the dynasty and family books resided along with the books on poisons and dark spells. “They were all really talented potioneers, right? Like me?” Even if his da’ had been awfully abysmal at potions, the previous clan members had all excelled in the subject.  _ Maybe he just didn’t  _ want _ to be good at potions? _

Papa nodded, eyes gleaming with pride. “And because of this, they imbibed their heir ring with all the spells and charms for potion detecting they could as it was assumed the heir would continue the family business. However,-” here Papa’s look grew wry, “-they were reticent in the alerts for each spell. Your ring will either grow colder or warmer depending on what is detected, however, there isn’t much rhyme or reason to which potion will go which way or the severity of the temperature change.” He scowled a little and gestured in the direction of his bedroom. “I will copy the available list for you so you may reference it. The key thing to remember is that your Potter ring will change temperature when in contact with a potion, no matter the form. It cannot negate poisons and the like, but it will warn you if you pay attention. Have you noticed this at all?” 

Harry tried to think back on if the ring had done just as Papa had said, either while eating or taking any potions, but he failed to conjure any confirming or not. His headache potions were always taken when he was in so much pain he wasn’t even paying attention to his hand, and he hadn’t needed any other potions yet that year. “No sir.” He decided to trust his Papa’s intuition and judgment and vowed to start paying more attention to his surroundings. 

When Papa turned to rinse his cup in the sink, Harry grinned a little when he realized no further restrictions were coming. “So, my only rules this term are to pay attention to my heir rings and to avoid being alone if possible? I’m going back to school this term for sure?” He wasn’t sure why he asked, as soon as the question was out he wished he could shove the words back into his mouth because the long, calculatingly searching look returned. 

Less time passed before Papa stood and moved to the medicine cabinet near the living room entry where the first aid potions resided. “I cannot believe I did not do this earlier.” He turned and in his hand was a slim, mild cold potion Harry recognized immediately. He understood immediately Papa’s intent and reached for the vial just as Papa was holding it out to him. 

Stove-warmed fingers carefully pinched the vial and his nerves crescendoed as the ring on his finger slowly cooled until it felt like a band of ice was around his ring finger. “Healing potions make it ice-cold.” He announced and looked up at his father hopefully.

“I’m gratified to see the ring functions as directed.” Papa’s mouth quirked in a small smile and he nodded. “Yes. I believe you’ve shown an aptitude for obedience during your first term that tells me a return to school is the correct course of action. I trust that you do your level best to keep your studies at the top of your priorities and continue to allow me and my associates to handle the rest.”

“While spreading rumors about the third floor.” Harry snickered cheekily and Papa swatted the back of his head. 

“Imp.” With a return soft smile, he then moved onto more mild topics of conversation. “I would suggest you worry less about Albus at the moment and more about ensuring your trunk contains all you wish to have at school for the term. We will not return home again until the Easter holidays and there are plenty of adults who can worry about the headmaster.”

“I packed last night.” All he had left to pack were his toiletries and the little things he would put in his rucksack for the train like his new alchemy book. The new broom would remain in his room collecting dust, much to his disappointment, but Papa was firm on not bending rules for Harry and first years were not allowed personal brooms so here it would remain. “We’re going to be so early Draco will still be asleep.”

“Then perhaps Cissa will need assistance with something and can provide you a distraction if you cannot procure one for yourself,” Papa said before briskly changing the subject. “Now go wake Neville before you eat so he can make haste in readying himself for the day. We must depart in twenty minutes and I cannot be late to the staff meeting this morning.”

Harry scowled a little at the abrupt dismissal but nodded his assent. “Yessir.”

~~*~*~~

5 January 1992

Sunday

Hogwarts Express

~~*~*~~

“Dear Harry,” he began dramatically, as if reading a missive from a long lost explorer rather than one of his dearest, if not oldest, friends. “Sorry I haven’t written sooner but they have me so busy here I can barely make a brief floo call to mum once a week like she wants let alone pen the number of letters I wish I could write to my friends. Tonks sends me a letter daily, livid I’m not writing more, but she’s also stressed out because Alastor Moody is her mentor for the Auror program and he’s one hard taskmaster if you remember what mum’s always said about him. I’ve enclosed some photos -” without looking up from the letter, the boy reading held out the four photos named to his friends to circle around the group. He’d already looked at them when he’d first read the letter just after Christmas and had been waiting until the train so he could show everyone at once. “-of my four favorite dragons on the reserve. I don’t have much time, so I have to keep things brief. I’ll just give you the highlights and I’ll tell you more details when I have a chance.”

“Wow.” Draco’s nose was pressed to the photo in his hand. “Charlie said this one is one we saw hatching when we were there for your birthday!”

Harry grinned widely when Blaise, Pansy, and Neville all started shoving each other to see the photo next. Well, Neville was more in between Blaise and Pansy while they shoved at each other, but he gave half-hearted attempts to shove them away, so Harry considered that progress in the confidence department. “Yeah! That was his first highlight, that the dragons we saw hatching are still there and thriving. The second is that the food is as amazing as he remembered and third is the scenery he sees makes him feel things he can’t describe and the creatures he gets to work with every day give him a fulfillment he never thought possible.” He dropped his eyes back to the letter. “Then he signs off with his name and a promise to write later.”

They all jumped in their seats when a knock at the door sounded loudly. Harry took the initiative when his three Slytherin friends glared at the door instead of answering and Neville just ducked his head into his robes. He sighed and hopped up open the sliding door, only to wish he’d remained sitting. “Hullo Ron.” He’d thought Ron had stayed at Hogwarts but apparently had gone elsewhere for the Holidays.

“Hey, Harry.” He beamed back at Harry while Theo glowered from the redhead’s side. Harry wondered just how long it would take for the Slytherin boy to finally lose his cool with being forced around people he thought were evil, but figured Ron could deal with that aftermath since he was the one insisting on them meeting up like this. Ron nudged his friend who snarled tersely instead of a proper greeting.

“Oh for goodness sakes.” It seemed Draco had finally lost his patience. “We weren’t bothering you, Nott. You don’t have to stay here and talk to us. At least Weasley is making an attempt to be polite instead of huffing there like a rabid cow.”

Harry winced, comforted only slightly by the sight that his other three friends did as well. Draco’s tact desperately needed honing, especially if he was going to remain safe as a Slytherin. 

Sure enough, the other first-year whipped out his wand and practically screamed at Draco. “Call me a cow again!”

Even with a wand outstretched, Harry wasn’t too worried. Theo was only a first-year like them and Draco knew more spells than any other first-year or even the second years at this point. “I don't need to, your actions say it loud enough.” He retorted snootily, his nose upturned and arms crossed as he looked away from Theo with an eye-roll. 

It was clear that it was intended to be a snub, and from the ruddy bloom of his cheeks, Theo was well aware of just how trapped he was. If he retaliated, it would be seen as proof that Draco’s assessment was correct. But if he left it be, he could be seen as a coward or a ready target. Harry nearly held his breath, almost eager to see how Theo would respond.

To Harry’s disappointment, and apparently, Blaise’s as well if his forlorn sigh was any indication, Theo merely turned his own nose up and sauntered out of the carriage without another single word. Pansy gave a little whimper and Harry shivered at the savage expression in her eyes. “Pansy…” He said warningly, and she waved him off like a bothersome bug.

“I’m not going to do anything.” Yet, was the unfinished implication, and Harry’s frown turned into a scowl. He didn’t like the other boy either, but her usual level of viciousness wasn’t necessary for this infarction. 

Ron frowned now, watching his friend vanish into the next car. “Sorry about him. We went to his home instead of staying at the school for Christmas. And I thought my mum hated the death eaters.”

Harry’s irritation vanished and pity welled in its place. He’d heard Molly’s rants about death eaters, mainly during the visit that happened to coincide with the anniversary of the day her twin brothers died. Harry didn’t know much about the situation, just that it had been at the hands of death eaters. He remembered what Ron had told them before about how Theo had been raised by his mother who  _ hated _ his death eater father with a passion. And Ron had had to be there, too? Harry honestly was even more surprised Ron was standing there talking to them.

Draco however was far less understanding. “If he wants, I can prove I’m as evil as he thinks.”

“You don’t want to do that, Draco.” Harry sighed in exasperation. He gave Ron a little smile. “I accept your apology.”

“Yes I do!” Came the immediate petulant retort but he sat back in his seat and dropped the topic in favor of addressing the Weasley still in the car. “I do  _ not _ accep…”

“We all accept your apology.” Blaise interrupted diplomatically and Draco let out a wordless cry of disbelief and anger. “Even if Blondie here is too impulsive to understand the ramifications if he  _ keeps this attitude up. _ ”

There was a clear warning in the Italian boy’s voice, one that had Draco finally falling silent as he stared at his friend with narrowed eyes. Harry wondered idly again just what sorts of conversations they had in the dorms without him.

The redhead looked confused, hands shoved into his robe pockets and a raised eyebrow as he eyed the arguing boys. “Erm, I should go find him I guess.” He jerked a thumb towards the hallway and started backing up slowly. “I’ll see you later?” It was asked as a question, but he didn’t wait around for a response.

Harry felt a little weird twist in his gut and hoped that the interaction wouldn’t come back to bite them. Before he could close the door after Ron, he saw Hermione shuffling down the hallway towards them. “Hello, Hermione.” He said politely, and she jumped, head flying up to stare at Harry with wide unblinking eyes. She had the appearance of a petrified deer before she relaxed just a hint and finally blinked as she looked away from the group now staring at her. 

“Hello.” She whispered. The look in her eyes was one of a frightened baby deer, Harry thought idly as she darted quickly away, bushy hair bouncing behind her as she vanished into the next car.

“She really must not have any friends at all.” Pansy observed as Harry returned to his seat, the door now latched closed. “I wonder how the muggle schools were for her.” Strangely, she lacked the catty sort of tone Harry had grown to expect of his friend when speaking about the girl none of them really liked. Instead, she looked thoughtful, nay  _ contemplative, _ and a contemplative Pansy was a frightening one, and Harry frantically tried to find a topic of conversation to distract her.

Thankfully, Draco had one all lined up, only he directed it at Blaise. “You missed the best part of the holiday.” The other boy was saying. “Father taught us warding charms!” 

Harry grinned fondly as Pansy turned to Blaise, interjecting with her own anecdotes about learning the wards.  _ She’d better leave Hermione alone _ . He didn’t think anyone else really knew what he did about the other girl, and he didn’t want to spill secrets that weren’t his to share just to keep them from bullying her.

He demonstrated the ward on first his bag and then his trunk, and grinned at the feeling of warm honey that flowed through his arm. His wand from Madam Young’s shop, the black walnut with the werewolf saliva and horned serpent horn shavings, it was his absolute favorite. All break,it had shown none of the issues it had the previous term and so far on the train ride, it was proving to be so perfectly made for him he wondered how he ever struggled in classes to begin with.

As Blaise began his third attempt, Harry tucked his wand away and pulled the second, back up out from it’s holster on his leg. It was the wand he received in Diagon, the one Ollivander had said some inane mutterings about shared cores and powerful things. He only used it when his custom wand was acting up, and for good reason. He hated using the phoenix core wand, the feeling of oil slicking over his magic made him want to vomit each time. It certainly hadn’t done that when it had chosen him, but ever since arriving at school, it had felt so very wrong he hated touching let alone using it.  _ Maybe I can do some research, find out if there are any by-laws that allow re-sortings based on wand performance. _

~~*~*~~

Courtyard

~~*~*~~

They had spent the rest of the trip teaching Blaise and practicing the charms again for themselves. He’d marveled that his wand was working beautifully, and he was eager to return to classes to see if the streak of luck would continue, praying he’d never have to even touch the nasty Ollivander wand again.

Inside the courtyard, they dismounted the driverless carriage he’d shared with his friends, he waved at Neville running to rejoin them after having to be separated as each cart only took four at a time. Out of breath, they waited for their friend to catch it before making the rest of the way to the castle.

Ahead of them, they could see the tall broad form of Hagrid walking along with the thin form of their defense professor, and Harry couldn’t help himself from beaming as he called out to his favorite professor, “good evening Professor!” Then, because no one could dislike the jolly games keeper, he also addressed them with a grin and a, “Hello, Hagrid!” 

“Evenin’ ‘Arry!”

“Good-good evening, Harry.” 

The two men spoke over one another as they returned the boy’s greeting. Professor Quirrell continued first. “He-hello to you-to you all as well.” He smiled down the line of first years.

“‘Ow was yer ‘oliday?” Hagrid boomed out when the timid professor seemed to not want to continue. 

The five called back in various epithets of some form of how their holiday went well, the result a tangled mess of words fully indistinguishable. Hagrid let out his booming laugh while Professor Quirell snickered softly and each one of them flushed with embarrassment. One shovel sized hand gestured at Pansy to go first while the other wiped away amused tears.

“I had a wonderful holiday, thank you Hagrid.” She said politely, though her face was twisted a bit in a way that told Harry she wanted to be away from the very large man but felt it would be too rude to back off. 

Harry nodded his ascent when the attention turned to him. “I received a book by Nicolas Flamel!” He said excitedly, wishing suddenly he’d brought it with him rather than leaving it in his trunk. 

“Ah, his latest!” Hagrid declared proudly. “Right great man he is.” He then turned beetle black eyes to the dark italian boy who shrugged at the inquiry.

“Dominique was a domineering idiot.” He admitted hotly before flushing a little and turning away. “It was nice to see Mother though, so not an all too awful holiday.”

“I’m hungry.” Draco interrupted and at the reminder, Harry’s stomach let out an embarrassingly loud grumble that seemed to echo. 

Everyone laughed again, with Blaise nudging Harry playfully. “Normally it’s Draco that sounds like he’s a starving orphan, not you.”

With a little groan, Harry put a hand to his head. It was starting it’s timid pounding that indicated a headache was soon to follow. “Shut up.” He snorted and debated telling someone he needed a potion.  _ Maybe it’ll go away _ .

The others nodded their agreement. The trip had been long, and lunch felt so long ago. “We should get inside.” Pansy urged. “It was nice to see you, Hagrid. Professor Quirrell.”

His resolve to make it through the return feast crumbled when the next pounding throb felt more like a stab and reluctantly spoke up. “I need a headache potion before I go to the Great Hall.” He knew if he didn’t get one soon, it would form into a migraine yet again and then he’d be unable to eat anything at all and he didn’t want that. 

Professor Quirrel reached out with a concerned look. “Al-already? B-b-but you’ve-but you’ve just-just returned.” Harry allowed the gentle fingers along the hair at the nape of his neck but twitched when the pain merely increased at the pressing fingers. “Hmm, per-perhaps it is, perhaps Madam-Madam Pompfry?”

“I’ll go with you.” Neville volunteered with an uneasy look at the two adults. He held up Trevor in his glass aquarium, having retrieved him from Blaise the moment they’d arrived on the train that morning. “I want to put him in the dorms before dinner anyway.” They nodded and Hargid moved to open the door for them, holding it open so they could pass through. 

“We’ll tell your father,” Pansy said reassuringly as she grabbed Draco and Blaise’s arms to pull them to the great hall. “And save you a seat. Gryffindor today?”

Harry nodded and resisted the urge to touch the finger his heir rings resided. He wondered if it would be more or less predictable to sit at the Gryffindor table. But then his head gave a mighty throb and he wordlessly cried out at the sudden flash of pain.

“Okay, going now.” Neville announced and gave Harry’s arm a light tug. His eyes closed gratefully, eagerly allowing himself to be led along so he could avoid looking at any unexpected lights. He had desperately hoped the headaches wouldn’t return, but he shouldn’t have expected any different.  _ I just wish I knew what was different at Hogwarts that would cause this! _

~~*~*~~

6 January 1992

Monday

Gryffindor First Year Dorms

~~*~*~~

It was a very wrinkled, plain brown package sitting neatly at the end of his bed, the other Gryffindor boys still asleep around him. Gingerly, he reached out and lifted the parchment folded on top to see something written inside. The paper dropped from his fingers as he sat back and he sighed despondently. It appeared to be a gift, but he hadn’t seen a name indicating who had left it, and so every instinct in his body urged him to leave the package alone and take it to his father.

Of course, he also just wanted to open it and enjoy whatever it was secretly. Carefully, he lifted the parchment note again, this time enough to hold it open so he could read what was written.

The words were hastily written, as if the author hadn’t had much time to pen the missive. Each letter either seemed to drag down on each iteration or were ended with ink splotches while some letters had severe angles to them indicating the author was in a great hurry to finish writing. It made reading the missive rather difficult.

“Harry,” He began out loud in a soft mutter. “Your tabel left...what?” Extremely confused, Harry squinted at what he had read as a B before realizing it was instead a ‘t’ and an ‘h’ smooshed together awkwardly and suddenly the first t’s weird loops and the odd bend in the ‘l’ made sense - and an entirely different word. “-Oh, your  _ father _ left-”

A loud snort startled him and his head swung so rapidly towards Seamus’ bed that his neck caught and he whimpered. He remained motionless as he stared at the irish boy, trying to figure out just how awake he was as he debated what to do. Reading it out loud would probably be the only way he’d decipher the missive but if he continued to read out loud, surely it would wake someone up and he didn’t want to explain any of this to anyone.

Making a decision, the moment Seamus settled again, Harry slipped out of bed and donned his bathrobe and slippers. Tucking the shoddily wrapped gift to his chest tightly, Harry made his silent way out of the dorms and down the spiral staircase into the common room, intent on finding his way to his little hideaway in the hallway he used for his meditations.

Once settled, he opened the slip of paper and continued quietly, the echoey nature of the stone hallway ensuring he would hear anyone approaching long before they heard him reading through the thick, sound dampening curtains that hid his alcove. The map was only useful if he was looking at it, otherwise, he’d have that out to alert him. Maybe he and Draco could figure out a way to add vocal alerts someday. If his father and his friends could manage the magic to create this during their years of school, why not he and Draco?

Shaking his head to clear it, he returned to the current problem: the mystery package with the messy script. He frowned at the combination of elegant scrolling and childish mistakes he hadn’t made since his early days of tutoring.  _ Pay attention, Harry. _ He scolded himself and began to read out loud again. “Your father left this in my-” His eyes squint again, the amount of wiggly, long tailed s’s in the word making it almost impossible to read, but after realizing one of the s’s was in fact an e, he eventually sussed out that the word was possession, “-possession before he died and it i _ s _ now time I give it back to you. U _ s _ e it wi _ s _ ely.” He giggled at the long line the L in the word wisely made, as if the line had gone off the parchment and come to an end on a table like if dragged along the paper. The amusement only increased when he realized the next word was missing a letter, even further testament to the haste at note writing. “Hapy holiday to you and your family.”

Papa’s warnings about always being suspicious of unknown letters or parcels had him freezing in his reach to open the paper to reveal what was inside.  _ It could be cursed _ . Reluctantly, he pulled his hands back and clenched them in his lap.

What to do? He knew warding charms, but he hadn’t yet been taught revealing ones, and he didn’t want to ask Draco, Lord of the Spells, just in case the contents were something he’d like to keep secret from his closest, yet most impulsive, friend. If he didn’t think the handwriting was too aristocratic, he’d have wondered if Hagrid had penned the note due to how sloppy some of the letters seemed. Reluctantly, he knew what he had to do.  _ I’d better show Papa _ .

He didn’t want to, especially since the author had indicated the gift had once belonged to James Potter and he had precious few things belonging to his deceased parents. He knew due to the nature of the presentation and the mystery of the gifter’s identity that his father would more than likely confiscate whatever the contents happened to be regardless of potential harm, but he also knew that hiding the receipt of a mysterious gift would be worse because Papa would find out.

Papa always found out. 

~~*~*~~

Snape Quarters

~~*~*~~

“From the handwriting, I am certain it is from the headmaster. I do not feel it to be disingenuous, merely messy. He seems to have been in a great hurry to get this to you.” He sighed from his spot at the tiny kitchenette table with his mug of always present coffee, but passed the note back and waved Harry on. “You may open it and I will be the final say on if you are allowed to yet possess whatever heirloom the old man has decided to pass along.”

The man had yet to dress for the day, Harry having interrupted his showering routine, but Papa had been so pleased Harry had come to him instead of impulsively opening the gift that not a sharp word was uttered about the early time.

Eagerly, the brown wrinkled paper was carefully folded down until out slipped something made of heavy fabric into his hands. A gasp escaped when he looked down to see his hands and forearms had gone  _ invisible. _ “Papa?!” He looked up to see a sour look twisting his father’s face. 

His words came out nearly in a growl. “I knew James Potter had  _ something  _ that enabled him to perform his pranks and mischief, but I never suspected an ancient invisibility cloak.” 

Harry felt his stomach drop out of his body completely as his eyes slowly dropped back down to look at, well, seemingly nothing. His da’ had had this as a boy? Suddenly the cloak was more than just an old bit of ancient magic, it was another link to a man he’d never have a chance to meet but who loved him enough to die for him. Maybe Uncle Remus would have more to say about it!

Then, a horrible thought occurred to him. Harry was well aware of the volatile nature of his da’ and his papa’s relationship in school, and honestly thought both had been rather large prats but would dare never say so to Papa’s face. When he caught Papa’s dark eyes again, the sour turned soft. “I would not deny you this, Harry, remove that expression from your face. I am merely lost in the shadows of the past.” 

“Thank you, Papa!” He beamed at the permission to keep the cloak, but the soft then turned stern, and Harry knew he was about to have a lecture and so attempted to stop it. “I know, don’t let anyone else use it.” He sure wasn’t about to let Draco get ahold of it, at any rate, so he felt the lecture would be unnecessary.

“Oh, I have more than that to say to you.” Papa promised, dark eyes flashing as he pointed a long finger to the couch, a wordless command to sit. “I am to impress upon you the gravity of just what it is you have received, as well as the rules for keeping it in your possession and the consequences for breaking said rules.“

With a scowl and a stomach growl, Harry obeyed.

~~*~*~~

Abandoned Classroom

~~*~*~~

Even had the hallway both to and around the abandoned classroom been full of students, Harry would have been unseen by any and he was  _ loving _ his new superpower. It was the tail end of dinner, and he’d planned the timing perfectly as the student body mostly was either still eating, or headed off to their extra-curricular activities such as Quidditch practices with Madam Hootch supervising or Frog Choir rehearsals with Professor Filius conducting.

Sitting in the chair they used the least, he didn’t want anyone to sit on his invisible form, his mind wandered to what extracurriculars he’d want to take on top of the new classes available to third years. Debate was one such extra that was only available third year on. Pansy had already mentioned trying out for the choir next year and Draco he knew was determined to play quidditch, both of which opened up for second years. He himself was still on the fence about trying out next year for the Gryffindor team. Blaise was also planning on trying for the debate club, but had plans to try and sweet talk his way into the extra-curricular class a year early. Harry secretly thought Papa had a better chance of voluntarily wearing colorful robes, but he kept those thoughts to himself.

He glared at the door when he heard faint laughter and running, hoping and praying it was Pansy and Draco racing and not some other loud pair of friends. While the rock by the lake would have been a safer place to show his friends his new invisibility cloak, he’d rather not freeze to death outside because the weather refused to cooperate. They had parted at breakfast with Harry asking them to meet in their study room after dinner because he had something to show them. Regardless of who arrived first, no one would see Harry until he was ready for the reveal.

The door burst open and in spilled first Draco and Pansy as if they’d been racing and had fought to open the door first, with Blaise and Neville following in at a more sedate pace, the slender bold boy far more amused by the antics of the pair than the rotund timid one. Harry grinned when they looked around and seemed to droop in disappointment that they were there before him.

As it turned out, he had been the first one done with dinner. It could be due to the fact he was too anxiously excited for their reactions, or the fact he really didn’t like the school’s version of meatloaf, but no matter the reason, he had a wonderful opportunity to hype up the heirloom. Draco had started shoveling food faster the moment Harry had wordlessly stood from his mostly empty plate with a smirk while the other three picked up their pace with a bit more grace and dignity. 

He had needed to go to the dorms first, having warded the cloak in his trunk before the rest of the dorm had awoken that morning after being granted permission to keep it. He hadn’t wanted to risk Draco going through his bag that day for a quill or extra parchment or whatever it was he had forgotten today and finding it early and exposing it to the entire school because his subtlety skills were at a level 0. 

Harry knew he was taking an absolutely enormous risk revealing the cloak to Draco, but he couldn’t show Pansy or Blaise or Neville and leave Draco out of it, he would eventually discover the deception and the fallout would be catastrophic. Plus, even Draco would follow Papa’s rules, Harry was certain of it, because the consequences of not doing so were almost too horrible to contemplate. 

At thinking they were alone, the conversation became about Harry and what he could possibly have to show them. Waiting until they were arguing to help cover any of his footsteps, he snuck around the desks until he was directly behind Draco. From experience, he knew the white-blond would give the best reaction at being startled. 

“If he’s not here soon, I’m leaving. I don’t care what he has to show us when mother sent me Belgian chocolates this morning.” The other boy was complaining. 

“I’m pretty sure you’ll change your tune soon,” Harry said and all four of his friends screamed.

Draco, however, whirled around with wide terrified eyes. “Show yourself!” His wand came up with a shaky hand, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh as he threw off the invisibility cloak.

“Hi!”

Oh, the gormless looks on his friends' faces would stay with Harry for years. 

“Wha-” Draco’s mouth had actually dropped open, so far he could see where there was still some food from dinner stuck in the back of the pearly molars. He bit back a snicker and smirked at them all. 

Blaise had all the appearances of a fish out of water, mouthing silently like that. Harry wasn’t sure what he was trying to say, but the glazed look over chocolate eyes told him he didn’t need to say anything at all.

The noise Pansy was emitting through her mouth was akin to a muggle fire alarm, the shrillness of the sound only muffled from the hallway by the silencing charms each classroom has equipped to avoid disturbing others in session.

And Neville looked like a baby deer, too frightened to even blink let alone run. His hands were in tight fists by his side and eyes so wide Harry could almost see the red where the eye muscle held the eye in place. Immediately, he felt bad for terrifying the timid boy like that.

“Sorry for scaring you Nev.” He said softly, feeling worse when his response is to shake a little. “It was my da’s. The headmaster gave it to me this morning, and I just had to show you guys.”

Most of the gormlessness faded at the declaration, and the other Gryffindor relaxed immediately. “Your da’s?” Neville said curiously, but he was barely heard over the rest.

“The headmaster?!” Blaise hissed, hands coming up to rest on his hips and making him look very much like his aristocratic mother scolding Dominique. “And you opened it?”

Pansy was giving Harry an up-down appraisal with her eyes, a strange gleam of irritation in them. “You’re showing Draco Malfoy this? Maybe you  _ are  _ stupid enough for Gryffindor.”

“Wow, an invisibility cloak?!” Draco shouted over them all, but Harry ignored most of them in favor of answering Pansy first.

“You’d rather Draco find out about it months later? Do you want to deal with the aftermath?” He sat in the nearest seat, absently stroking the velvety soft unseen fabric as Pansy hummed her agreement. Ignoring Draco muttering about mutiny and defamation, he then answered Blaise’s concern. “There was a plain, brown wrapped parcel on my bed when I woke up this morning. I saw the note and read it, and took it to my father. I would not open a strange package without checking first.”

His father was paranoid enough to instill that sense of self-preservation in his adopted son, and Harry was loath to test either his rings or his father’s patience and potion skills on any sort of malicious mail that might be sent to him due to his status as the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Why did you get an invisibility cloak?” Draco’s tone was demanding and sharp and Harry rolled his eyes at hearing it.

But the irritation faded as he looked back down at his invisible lap. “Like I said, it was my da’s. It’s a Potter heirloom, an ancient, rare invisibility cloak.”

The other four looked rather perplexed, and Harry figured he knew why. Invisibility cloaks weren’t that rare, at least not in the aspect that they were unavailable to everyday wizards. However, the cost of such objects usually ran far outside most families save perhaps the wealthiest, and so the Potter’s possessing such an object would be up for much debate were it to become common knowledge. Harry, though, still had some facts to share about his unusual cloak.

As usual, it was Pansy who voiced their concerns first. “Harry, my grandfather has one. They aren’t all that…”

He knew he was being rude, blurting out and interrupting his friend, but he had to get his piece out before any other assumptions were made.

“Papa and Uncle Remus both say this one is different. This one can’t be summoned with any known spells, and when I checked the map while wearing it, I wasn’t there.” Stunned silence made the air almost heavy as Harry’s words faded and the implications set in. An invisibility cloak that would hide the user from magical tracing and be unable to yanked off the user to reveal them? Such an artifact was only spoken of as myth or legend, as fantastical and unlikely to exist as the tales and songs told by Beedle the Bard. 

They all spoke at once.

“How did you get your father to-?”

“Can I have a try first?”

“What color do you think the fabric actually is?”

“You’re going to lose us points, aren't you?”

Harry answered the questions as best he could. 

“The underside is green Blaise, see?” When the cloak was flipped, there was a distinctive green cloak shape in Harry’s hand that vanished when put back right again. “No, Pansy, you cannot try it first, we’re all going under it together the first time.” He ignored her pouting and finally addressed the two most important questions. “Papa let me keep it because it was my da’s. He said if it was used for any mischief, even you guys, I’d lose it for the rest of the year.” He then looked at Neville who seemed relieved if the slack look on his face was any indication. He fully planned on just not getting caught, ergo no point loss, but he wasn’t about to admit that out loud. “I just had to let you guys see this! I don’t have much from my birth parents, just their wands and some pictures.”

Blaise and Neville nodded with more understanding than Pansy or Draco could even comprehend. “It's wicked.” Neville whispered. “How’d the headmaster come to have it?” The other four froze like deer before simultaneously swiveling heads around to stare at the now blushing round-faced boy in shock. “What? It’s a reasonable question.” His arms came up to cross defensively over his chest which had Harry dropping out of his shock enough to try and reassure his friend.

“A very reasonable one.” Harry’s voice was soft and contemplative. “Why  _ did _ Dumbledore have the cloak? Wouldn’t it have been useful for Da’ to have if he was hiding from the Dark Lord?”

Blaise seemed uncomfortable but spoke up anyway. “I mean, not really. Not if they were under fidelius and in hiding. They wouldn’t have wanted to leave the confines of the ward, so they wouldn't be the ones going back and forth, but-”

“But the ones who were supplying them would want to stay secret and out of sight!” Pansy interrupted breathlessly. “That must mean whoever the secret keeper was had the cloak!”

Harry felt his stomach drop out of his body completely, leaving behind a cavern of ice. “That’d be my godfather. Well, the one James Potter assigned me. Sirius Black.” He didn’t know much about the man, but he did know enough to know that he hated him. Uncle Remus rarely spoke of him, because the betrayal and deaths that had occurred were too painful still to rehash, even the joyous stories of their youth. And he knew just how horrible of a bully both Black and his own Da’ had been to Papa in school and he hated bullies more than anything.

“If Black had the cloak, then it would make sense that Dumbledore had it to give to you.” Draco pointed out. “He is the head of the Wizengmot, surely he would have overseen Black’s trial and imprisonment and therefore would have access to any personal effects, invisibility cloaks included.”

“Especially if he was the one who performed the charm to begin with.” Harry continued the thought and nodded absently as he drew his attention back to the soft, old fabric. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

The room fell into silence as they all drew into their own thoughts on the matter. “So what  _ will _ you do with it?” Pansy wasn’t afraid to break the quiet. “Should we wait to start spreading the rumors about the third floor?”

Initially, they had planned on the day after school starting up again, but now with the arrival of the cloak, perhaps it could be better to wait. “We should wait.” He agreed before answering Pansy’s first question. “And I’d sneak into the forbidden section of the library if I knew how to get inside without the password.”

There was only a brief pause before the three Slytherins nearly fell over themselves laughing in hysterics. “You would!” Pansy shrieked merrily, barely understood through her chortling.

“Swot.” Draco snorted through his giggles and Blaise was simply laughing too hard to comment.

Mildly offended, but only superficially really because what other reaction was he expecting from them, Harry turned his nose up and looked at Neville, who was more perplexed than anything else. “Since you’re not making fun of me, I’ve changed my mind. You get the first turn with me.” Neville’s face lit up brighter than a muggle megacity and Harry stood and lifted up the cloak while gesturing and ignoring the still-laughing protests that immediately erupted from the other three.

While ducking under the invisibility cloak didn’t stop him from hearing the cries of unfairness, it did prevent the laughing trio from seeing Harry to stop him from enveloping Neville as well. Neville, to his credit, only squeaked in alarm rather than screaming in terror and nearly threw the cloak off again. But Harry held tight and Neville  _ didn’t _ bolt and soon the boy relaxed when he realized nothing bad was happening. “Oh, wow this is so cool!” 

They could see through the fabric enough to not hit things as they slowly wove through the desks. “I see a problem.” Blaise’ hum sounded far away and Harry ducked back out to look to see where the boy had gone. He wasn’t near Pansy and Draco, who were still standing near the door where they had been when Harry had vanished under the cloak.

A noise from the professor’s podium had him grinning as he looked to see Blaise sitting cross-legged on top. Dark eyes were scrutinizing carefully, his mocha skin shadowed even further in the low light of the room. Harry thought he looked rather impressive up there, perched like an intimidating bird. “Rather, I hear one.” It dawned on Harry just as Blaise said it, “breathing and footsteps.”

He pulled the cloak off the rest of the way and glared at it halfheartedly. “I guess we need to learn some muffling charms as soon as possible.” Giving it a shake, he then smoothed it back out and held it out to the lone girl of their friend group. “Pansy, Blaise, your turn!” Before Draco could protest, he immediately had a tempting offer. “If you help me set up an obstacle course and don’t complain about having to wait, you can go by yourself.”

He definitely knew how to placate his best friend. While the pair wrestled with how to put on the cloak, Harry and Draco and Neville dashed about shoving desks and stacking chairs all about the room, trying their hardest to stump Blaise and Pansy from reaching the other side of the room. There was an hour still to curfew and he intended to extract every bit of fun from the cloak as he could before he had to return to his dorm room. Maybe he already had a book in his personal library that had the spells needed, or at least an idea of where he could find them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren’t stupid decisions by smart people fun? :D Thank you so much for reading!


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